Wings of the Apocalypse
by sharim
Summary: We have seven months until the planet is wiped out, Carter. And that's optimistic. SJ. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Wings of the Apocalypse

**Rating:** T

**Spoilers: **Absolutely ANYTHING is fair game. Literally.

**Category**: Apocafic. AU. Action/Adventure. Drama. SJ. Bit of everything really!

**Summary: **"We have about seven months until the planet is wiped out, Carter," he blurted out. "Seven months until every last one of us is gone. And that's optimistic."

**Notes: **This fic has been in the workings for over three years. In that time, I've bounced ideas off various people, sent it for checks to even more people, and spammed countless LJ entries with moans and whines about it. As such, there are a lot of people who have been involved with this fic, and doubtlessly I'm going to forget to name some.

I do, however, owe a HUGE thankyou to some people:

**Denise (Skydiver119)** for saving this fic. Literally. It would still be on my HD and unfinished if D didn't step in, read it, and offer some brilliant suggestions!

**Alliesings **for beta'ing despite everything – she's corrected many of my Australianisms and helped me polish this fic better than I could done it alone. Thank you, Allie, I owe you big time! smooch

**Seldear** for being a bouncing board and support and friend during late night chats of moans about exams and whines about family, and for inspiring me to write better with her awesome Atlantis and Stargate! fic! And, of course, her help with actually figuring out how to finish the fic.

**Ruralstar** for her huge assistance in the first half of this fic, and her suggestions which made it that much better. Also, her contributions to plot and development were invaluable, as was her encouragement.

**Evangeline** for her brilliant ideas (again, sorry it didn't all get used!) and willingness to beta.

**Lisa Yaeger**, because she reads everything and says "It's awesome!" and that's like totally good for my ego ;)

And **Starslikedust** because even though I doubt she'll even REMEMBER (or read) this fic, the original ideas were bounced off her late one night, and since then this fic has morphed so completely it's not even recognisable – but she let me accost her with fic ideas and spam and I love her for it!

---

For Ev, because she said fic would help and it's all I had.

---

**PART ONE**

**Richmond, Virginia**

The chair was rough and rickety beneath her, on the verge of falling apart. Just like the rest of the stinking hole she was 'living' in. The cuffs around her wrists were threaded through a sturdy iron ring bolted to the table in front of her. The silver metal reflected watery sunlight filtering in through the dirty windows, and the light was warm as it played on her hands. It had been a long time since she'd seen the sun, much less felt it kissing her fingers. She flexed the digits, letting the weak light warm them.

Her gaze wandered across to the window, almost surprised at how blue the sky still was. Several white clouds wisped across it and disappeared, leaving her with only a small blue square of empty air. She'd thought that maybe after all this time the sky would be different somehow. Darker. Like her.

On the opposite side of the room, she heard the metal clanking of a key turning in the lock, and the rusted door swung open. Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she watched a familiar figure enter the room, and she regarded him disdainfully.

"You've had your hair cut," he said, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of the table. He looked at it warily, and pushed it back in, opting instead to stand.

"I've heard it's the new fashion," she returned calmly, her eyes never straying from his form.

"How've you been, Major?"

A slight smile pulled at her lips and she shrugged. "Lose the title, Samuels. I'm out, remember?"

He regarded her thoughtfully, and a strange smile pulled his lips into a grimace. "You know, that's almost exactly what O'Neill said to me nine years ago."

She stared at him coldly. "What do you want?"

"We need your help."

She laughed at that, and a flicker of fear crossed his face. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected her to be ready for the padded rooms and white jackets. But she was. She had been for a long time, probably even longer than she had realised. "That's rich, considering you're the asshole who put me in here."

"We screwed up, Major."

"For fuck's sake, Samuels, I'm not in the Air Force anymore, remember? Hell, I'm not even classed as a fucking free citizen."

"I could have you gassed," he said.

"You've tried that," she retorted, her voice like acid.

She saw the veins in his temple flutter in time with each pulse of his heart, and she stared at them in fascination. A light sheen of sweat clung to his pink skin, and she grimaced in distaste.

"We made a mistake, _Sam_."

She leant forwards in her chair, resting her warm palms against the rough grains of the table. "It took you this long to figure it out? And don't call me Sam."

"Then what do I call you?"

"I believe the number is 5041," she said icily. "Don't you know that, Samuels? We don't have names in here. We're just a bunch of fucking numbers."

"We have seven months until the planet is wiped out, Carter," he blurted out. "Seven months until every last one of us is gone. And that's optimistic," he added casually.

She gave a low whistle through her teeth, and leant back in her chair again, tensing as the weak wood groaned beneath her weight. "And what do you expect me to do about it?" she demanded. "I'm kinda tied up at the moment." The cuffs and chains on her wrists clinked as she raised her hands towards him almost mockingly.

"We leave in half an hour," Samuels said, standing up and casting a quick glance out of the small window.

She wondered if he could see the treetops from his viewpoint.

---

**I-95**

The rubbery hum of tires slapping down on the blacktop rose defiantly above the quiet purr of the government issued Ford. The leather was soft against her spine, but in the sweltering heat it was sticking the rough prison garb to her back.

"Could we wind down a window?" she asked, breaking the silence in the car.

"No," Samuels said curtly.

She held up her cuffed wrists, making the small chains rattle loudly. "It's not like I'm gonna go anywhere."

"We're not opening the windows."

The streetlights glistened off his forehead, and she watched as he lifted one jacket-clad arm and wiped at the sweat on his face. She pursed her lips and used her own sleeve to wipe her face, staring out the dark window to the world beyond. She peered up at the sky, twisting her head to see, but the bright lights blinded her and she couldn't see the stars.

"What are you doing?" Samuels snapped.

"Looking," she muttered, pulling her head back down and resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. "What's with all the cloak and dagger, Samuels?"

Samuels sat back in his seat, facing forward again as their driver negotiated the large car, deliberately ignoring her question. She sighed and let her head rest against the window again. "What happened?"

The car nosed over into the exit when he looked across at her again. "You'll be told when we arrive."

"Arrive where?"

"Colorado."

Sam closed her eyes and bowed her head. Colorado. That meant one place.

**---**

**Colorado Springs**

The jangling of the phone was unnaturally loud as it intruded on her sleep. Her hands fumbled clumsily on her bedside table before locating the handset.

"Cassie, I swear to God you will learn how to read a watch," Janet groaned into the phone.

"This isn't Cassandra," a smooth male voice responded.

"Oh.. God.. Sorry, I thought you were my daughter."

"Sorry to have woken you, Doctor Fraiser, but we need your help."

She frowned into the phone. "Who is this?"

"Sergeant Davis, Ma'am. Walter Davis."

"Walter?" she repeated incredulously.

"Uh.. yeah. We need your help, Doctor Fraiser."

"So you've said, Sergeant." Janet sat up and swung her legs over the side, searching blindly in the dark with her feet for her slippers while her hands tried to locate the switch on her bedside lamp. "What's the problem?"

"There's been a breach."

She felt the sticky layer of heat induced sweat turn to ice on her skin. "I knew it couldn't last," she muttered, slipping her feet into her slippers and standing up. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"No, I'll meet you at your house in five minutes." The phone went dead in her hands, and she stared at it for several seconds. Despite the heat, she felt cold inside.

---

**Washington DC**

Maybourne hated these places. The chemical smell of disinfectant soured the air and the sterile whiteness made him feel unclean. He was unclean, he supposed, but hopefully his actions in the next few days would balance out his karma and he wouldn't return to this life as a bug.

A bitter smile pulled at his lips as he navigated his way through the endless hallways. Jack O'Neill would have liked that: Maybourne returning as a cockroach. O'Neill would simply crush him beneath his military issued boot.

Still, maybe he'd come back as a dog now, or something. Hopefully.

---

**Colorado Springs**

"Where are we going?" Janet asked, rolling her shoulders to try and dislodge the sweat-soaked shirt sticking to her back. It was hot, she decided, disgustingly and unnaturally hot for this area of the USA.

"Nuclear Facility," Davis grunted, his boots crushing gravel and growth in an unsteady pace in front of her. "They don't want anyone to know we've brought you in."

She remained quiet, staring at the gate technician's back. Walter Davis, their tech-head and resident nerd, was playing hero?

"I know what you're thinking, Ma'am," he commented, stopping to face her. His flashlight glinted off the gravel, and moonlight turned his crew-cut into a silver fuzz.

"What am I thinking?" she asked him.

"That things must be pretty bad if a gate geek who couldn't pass his physical is leading a discharged military doctor across a mountain in the middle of the night."

"Either that or the gate geek has some pretty strange ideas," she returned. His eyes widened, and he stuttered a few times before falling silent. "Well, are they?" she asked.

"NO!" he snapped explosively. Then, "No, Ma'am. This definitely isn't my idea of fun."

A small smile tugged at her mouth, but it didn't surface. "I was talking about the emergency. It's bad, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said simply, and continued walking. She followed in silence, watching the narrow beam of light bounce through the darkness.

Things had to be bad if Walter Davis was playing hero, she mused darkly.

---

**Washington DC**

The hypodermic syringe was a warm and comforting weight in his pocket. He let his fingers roll over the smooth plastic several times, watching the guards patrol the room's single door.

He smiled in amusement, the emotion flickering briefly across his shadowed features. Two men on guard for one man locked in a padded room, Maybourne mused dryly. Impressive. Then again, he would never have suspected any less from the man locked behind the doors.

He just hoped the rumours weren't true.

**---**

**Nuclear Facility, Colorado**

"This is ridiculous, Sergeant!" Fraiser snapped, stomping across the dark room in frustration. "Would you just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"I can't," he mumbled apologetically, staring down at his hands. Pale, soft skin. Indoor hands with calluses on the fingertips from too much typing on a computer keyboard. His hands weren't made for all this outdoorsy, cloak and dagger planet saving crap.

"Why not?" Fraiser demanded, pinning him against the wall with her eyes. Fraiser would have made a great General; everyone had said so. Until Bauer.

"I'm under orders," he explained. She, of all people, should understand that.

"Whose orders?" The woman never gave up, did she?

"Mine."

Walter's body almost sagged in relief as the force of her personality was deflected away from him and directed towards the doorway where several figures were now standing.

"Yours?" Fraiser spat, and Walter cringed. Fraiser hated Samuels, he remembered a few seconds too late.

"Yes," Samuels nodded. "We don't have much time, Doctor Fraiser, and I'm only going to explain the situation once."

"Then damn well hurry up and explain it, Samuels, I'm losing what little patience I had to begin with." The figure who'd spoke was female, but it wasn't Fraiser.

Walter felt his mouth drop open again as a tall, thin woman clad in bright orange prison garb stepped into the room, her hands bound in front of her by a pair of metal handcuffs. Despite the shaved head and lines around her eyes, he would have recognised Samantha Carter anywhere.

"Sam!" Fraiser gasped; the word was a strangled sound deep in her throat.

"Janet," Carter greeted coolly. Her eyes flicked over Walter as she nodded a quick greeting to him, and then she turned back to Samuels. "Would you take these off now, Samuels? My wrists are getting chafed."

"But…" Fraiser whispered, and Walter understood how she felt. "I was there, I saw you…"

"You saw me die?" Carter asked hollowly. "Wrong, Janet. I'm not dead."

"Yes, we're well aware of that. Now, if you ladies don't mind, we do have a very big problem on our hands," Samuels interrupted. "And I'm not untying Carter until I've explained the situation and you understand what's happening."

"Hurry up then, Samuels," Carter snapped, crossing the room and seating herself.

Walter stared at Samuels, frowning in thought. What the hell _was_ going on? And how many more secrets did Samuels have?

---


	2. Chapter 2

**---**

**PART TWO**

---

**Washington DC**

The phone was ringing. Cassandra closed her eyes and burrowed deeper under her covers.

The phone was ringing.

"Go away!" she muttered, pulling the covers over her head and turning over so that her back was facing the phone.

The phone was still ringing.

A muffled thump banged against the wall, followed by Bek's sleep-muffled voice. "Answer your damn phone, Cass!"

"Maaargghh!" Cass groaned, rolling over in a tangle of sheets to find the offending appliance. "Yeah?" she grunted into the receiver.

"Cass! Why didn't you answer your phone?" her Mom's voice demanded.

"Mom! It's 6am!" she moaned, flopping onto her back.

"I know, Cass, and I'm sorry."

A door slammed somewhere in the apartment, and she heard Bek rattling mugs in the kitchen. Damn, now there wasn't going to be any going back to bed. "What's up?" she asked, staring at the ceiling. It needed another coat of paint, she mused.

"I need you to fly home straight away, Cass."

She frowned. "Mom?"

"I can't talk about it on the phone, sweetie, but-" a squeal from the kitchen cut Janet's voice off, and Cass flew upright in bed.

"Bek?" she called.

"Cass! You have got to see this!"

"Just a minute!" she yelled back, rolling her eyes. "Mom, you still there?"

"Yes, I am. Cass, listen to me, I need you to get home as quickly as possible, okay?"

"Why?" she whispered, suddenly cold in the summer heat.

"There's been a safety breach, honey, and you could be in danger."

"How?" Cass demanded. Her mouth was cotton dry, and she swallowed roughly to try and dislodge the lump suddenly constricting her throat.

"An experimental project working on some specimens brought back by SG-1 a few years ago went wrong. Some specimens got out, and they're lethal, Cass. They multiply faster than you can imagine, and they swarm. There are only a few out there at the moment, but they're spreading."

"Fuck," Cassie whispered.

"Cassandra!" Janet snapped.

"Sorry!" she apologised absently. "I'll… I'll get Bek and book our flights straight away."

"Good. Keep your cell phone on, Cass, and call if you have _any_ problems."

"Okay," Cass nodded, juggling the phone as she tried to pull her night shirt off and dress herself.

"Cass?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"Don't go near anyone who's been stung, okay?"

"Okay," Cass whispered. The carpet beneath her feet was light, almost cream coloured. Her Mom had been wearing a cream dress when she'd died, the same colour as the carron fields behind their house.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too," she whispered. The handset slipped neatly onto its cradle when she hung up, and her room was too quiet.

Bek was in the kitchen. "Morning," Cassandra said.

"Have you _seen_ this?" Bek demanded, turning to face Cassie. "This is… Cass… this is unbelievable!" She motioned toward the TV screen.

Cass stared at it blankly; a female reporter was speaking into a microphone, but Cassie ignored her. "We have to get out of here, Bek. Something bad is happening."

"No shit," Bek agreed vehemently, her green eyes wide. "Cass, these things… they're amazing!"

Cassie looked at the TV screen. "My Mom says we have to get out of here. She wants us to fly to Colorado Springs. We're in danger. In very bad danger," she whispered.

Danger. So much danger. Everyone was dying. Mom! Where was her Mom? The sun was shining and the grass was growing, but everyone was dying and her mom was wearing a cotton dress and there was blood on her hands and-

"Cass! Are you okay?"

Cassandra blinked, and she was in their kitchen, her sweaty feet sticking to the cold linoleum floor and her hands wrapped around the back of a kitchen chair. "I'm fine," she whispered, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly. "Bek, we have to get out of here. Now. Pack your things; I'm booking us two flights to the Springs."

"No, I'm going home, Cass, to New York."

"Bek, you have to trust me on this. My Mom is one of the only people who can help us," Cass urged.

"What do you mean?" Bek frowned.

"My Mom… she… she knows things," she said lamely, clenching her fingers around the smooth wood in frustration.

Bek clambered to her feet, staring at Cass. "This isn't funny, Cass."

"I'm serious, Bek! You have to trust me."

"I can't, I have to go to my family. If these bugs… if this is really as bad as they're making it out to be on TV, I have to go home to my family. Besides, the Springs is where the bugs are going. You'll be safer in New York."

Cass shook her head. "You're wrong. You're not going to be safe anywhere," she whispered.

"I'm not going to the Springs," Bek said firmly.

"I'll get yours booked for New York."

Bek nodded. "Thanks, Cass."

**---**

**Washington DC**

He was getting hungry, and when Maybourne got hungry, he got cranky. Very cranky. It didn't help that his legs were beginning to cramp. He checked his wristwatch in a barely controlled gesture of frustration, touching the buttons to light up the small screen. 6:21am.

Good, only a few more minutes. He eased his right hand into his pocket and fingered the syringe again. Almost time.

The cupboard door squeaked as he pushed it open. No one was around. He stepped out quickly and shut the door behind him with a soft click, and then strode up the hall to the men's room.

He was washing his hands when the door swung open and one of the new guards walked in wearing a worried grimace on his face.

"Good morning." Maybourne smiled broadly.

The guard glanced at him. "Where have you been all night, buddy?" he questioned, crossing the room. "Haven't you seen the news? This sure as hell ain't a good morning!" he declared.

Maybourne's answer was to plunge the hypodermic needle deep into the man's neck. The man struggled briefly as Maybourne emptied the contents of the syringe into his neck, and then slumped silently to the ground, unconscious after a few seconds.

Other than the sleeves and trousers being too long the uniform wasn't a bad fit, Maybourne thought as he admired his reflection in the mirror. He tucked in the shirt and holstered the handgun before leaving the men's room and sauntered up the hallway.

"You're early," a guard remarked as he turned the corner and they came into view.

"It's chaos out there," he announced loudly. "I figured I'd make sure I got in here on time."

"What do you mean 'chaos'?" the other guard questioned.

"Haven't you heard?" Maybourne stared at them, feigning disbelief. "There are mutant bugs out there, and they're attacking everything in their path. At least a hundred of them. They're because of all that secret military testing they do out at Groom Lake; the fall out mutated them and turned them into killers. Just like Godzilla," he added for effect.

They stared at him doubtfully. "Mutant bugs?"

"Yeah. They sting you with their stingers." He nodded enthusiastically.

"Right. Good one. Very very funny."

"You don't believe me? Go to the staffroom and see for yourself. They're on almost every channel. Big news at the moment."

Their raised eyebrows were in danger of hitting the ceiling as they gazed down at him, and he shrugged carelessly. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see for yourselves, there are mutant bugs on the loose. TV is only up the hall."

One of the guard's glanced at his wrist. "It's 6:31," he commented.

"Bert'll be late, with the traffic out there," Maybourne announced. "He'll be here in a few minutes. You go have a look, I'll be fine until then."

With a final disbelieving glance, they passed Maybourne the keys and disappeared up the hall.

"Idiots," Maybourne muttered as he watched them disappear.

**---**

**Washington DC**

"Come on, Cass!" Bek yelled, her voice floating in through the open window. "Cass, we have to get out of here!" So, so urgent. Bek hadn't seen the end of a world before, she didn't realise it didn't come quickly.

"I'm coming," she called back, pulling back and shutting the window firmly. She pulled the curtains shut, casting the room into darkness before she snagged her knapsack from where it was lying on a couch.

The photo frame was silver, and she stopped by the bookcase to look at it. Her Mom, Sam and herself.

She picked it up; the pewter was heavy and cold in her hands as she walked out the door and locked it behind her.

**---**

**Nuclear Facility **

"Damn it, Cass, answer!" Janet muttered, pacing anxiously across the floor.

Sam watched her agitated movements, discreetly studying the woman who used to be her best friend. Janet hadn't aged much in the last three years. Not like Sam. There were no bags under here eyes or scars on her hands.

"Where is she?" Sam asked, breaking the silence as she studied her own hands.

"DC," Janet answered, glancing wearily at Sam.

Sam could still read Janet; she could still tell Janet was going to launch into something serious. Sam was right.

"Sam, I didn't know. I promise you, I didn't know. If I'd known-"

"If you'd known, what?" Sam asked tiredly. "You'd have what?"

She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to face Samuels. "Harlowe just arrived," Samuels announced. "He's brought some samples, work and the equipment you'll need, Doctor Fraiser. He's also got a specimen."

Sam watched with veiled interest as Janet turned on Samuels. "We can't just whip up a miracle cure in time to fix your mistake, Samuels! Coming up with a vaccine for a retro virus in only a few days… it's almost impossible!"

"Harlowe has been working on this since the incident with the Jaffa," Samuels interrupted. "He knows these bugs almost better than anyone."

"Teal'c," Sam snapped, "his name is Teal'c."

"If he's been working on this for years and he hasn't gotten anywhere, what makes you so sure we can create a vaccine in a few weeks?" Janet almost yelled, her frustration increasingly obvious.

"They've been performing genetic experiments with these bugs, Fraiser. Harlowe only had one of the originals to work on, not one of the newer mutations. The new virus acts slightly slower; the vaccines he has have no effect at all."

"There's not enough time," Janet whispered.

For the first time since they'd announced her death sentence, Samantha Carter felt fear.

The cold silence in the room was broken almost gently. "It's not as bad as you think, Janet," a familiar voice tried to comfort. "Samuels hasn't told you everything yet, has he?" There was almost an accusation in the tone.

Sam watched Timothy Harlowe silently. He'd betrayed them all by keeping the specimens and his research into the retro virus. It was through him that the NID managed to get hold of them and create this outbreak. It was his fucking fault that after all they'd been through, all they'd done, they were in danger of wiping themselves out with their own stupidity.

"Told me what?" Janet demanded. "Samuels?"

Samuels sighed in annoyance. "Maybourne is-"

"_Maybourne_?" Sam interrupted incredulously. "We're dealing with _Maybourne_ as well?" She stood up abruptly, anger heating her limbs and sending a tingling surge of feeling through her limbs. She felt her blood rushing through her veins, heard the rhythmic beat of her heart, the stuffy air pressing on her face, the itch of the hair growing back on her scalp. "This has gone far enough! I don't trust you, Samuels, or Harlowe for that matter, and I _definitely_ don't trust Maybourne!"

"Sit down and shut up!" Samuels barked. The quiet click almost deafened her in the small room, and everything else faded away again. She stared at the blunt muzzle of the hand gun trained on her. "You are here, Carter, because of your experience with these bugs. I don't need you, and I'm not putting up with any crap. You are a convicted criminal under my authority. Do I make myself clear?"

Sam sat back down silently, staring at his gun.

She was dead; she couldn't feel again, she just was. They owned her life, her thoughts… her breaths. She was nothing except dead, and even that release was withheld from her.

Who the fuck had she pissed off this much?

"Maybourne is getting us antibodies," Samuels continued smoothly, holstering his weapon. "He'll check in as soon as he's got them."

"Where is he getting the antibodies from?" Janet interjected sharply. "There only person who I'm aware of being exposed to the retro virus is Teal'c, and he's-"

"They've got him," Sam said dully.

"What?" Janet turned to her. "Teal'c is somewhere on another planet, Sam. I saw him go through the gate, right after I-" Janet stopped, the sentence hanging.

"Right after you watched me die?" Sam asked darkly. "Janet, they kept me imprisoned for three years without you knowing, or anyone else for that matter. It would be much easier for them to do the same with Teal'c."

"But how did they get him?" Janet demanded.

"I don't know," Sam shrugged, glaring up at Samuels. "These fucking bastards have screwed everything up."

"You're incorrect, Sam," Harlowe broke in. "They're not-"

The chirping of Janet's cell phone interrupted them, and conversation ceased as the doctor answered it. "Cass? Oh, thank God!" she breathed into the phone. "What? Where are you? No, stay there… hold on…" Janet speared Samuels with a glance. "Where exactly is Maybourne?" she asked suspiciously.

"DC," Samuels answered reluctantly.

"You get hold of him now, Samuels, and tell him he's bringing my daughter back with him."

"What?" Samuels gaped.

"You heard me. My daughter is flying here with Maybourne."

"We can't-"

"Your fucking organization is costing the lives of hundreds of people, Samuels, and you've destroyed the lives of countless already. You _will_ bring my daughter home."

Samuels licked his lips nervously, watching Janet cautiously. "Tell her… tell her if she can get to the Academy Airstrip by 0800hours their time, Maybourne will meet her outside the Western Perimeter. Oh, and Fraiser? Tell her not, under any circumstance, to let herself get caught. Understand?"

Janet nodded silently and spoke urgently in the phone.

Sam watched Samuels stalking out of the small room, and wondered how Cass and Teal'c would react to seeing her alive, and whether they thought she was guilty.

---


	3. Chapter 3

**---**

**PART THREE**

**---**

**Washington DC**

They had almost gotten away with it. So. Fucking. Close. And then his cell phone had rung. Loudly. In the middle of the reception. And _of course_ one of the guards whom he'd fed the 'mutant bugs from hell' crap to (despite that fact that most of it was, in actuality, true) just _had_ to be standing there.

"Hey!" the guard had yelled.

"Run!" Maybourne had ordered, reaching for his hand gun.

"Where to?" was grunted in return as they broke out of the building and into the hot sunlight.

"My truck! There!" He pointed with the gun.

"Fuck you… Maybourne… that's _my_ truck!" O'Neill wheezed

"Was!" Maybourne panted gleefully. "You're dead, remember?"

"Apparently not!" O'Neill muttered as they clambered into his truck.

Maybourne revved the engine and crunched the truck into gear, spinning the tires on the loose gravel scattered across the road. The chase was half-hearted though, and the guard only jogged after the truck to the entranceway, already holstering his weapon before Maybourne even left the car park.

O'Neill coughed loudly next to him, and Maybourne cast a concerned glance over the man now slumping in his seat with a slight sheen of sweat dotting his forehead.

"You okay, Jack?"

O'Neill opened one eye. "What the fuck is going on, Maybourne?" he demanded hoarsely.

"We hit a snag," Maybourne admitted. "Here, take this." He slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and threw it to O'Neill. "Ring the number that called us and almost got us killed."

"Who is it?" O'Neill demanded, fumbling with the small object.

"Samuels. He's the only one with this number."

O'Neill coughed. "Sparky!"

"Yeah, I think that's what you called him."

O'Neill shut the phone with a snap. "I'm not calling anyone until you tell me exactly what is going on!"

Maybourne ground his teeth in frustration; O'Neill was just as ornery when he was 'dead' as when he was alive. Why couldn't the man just do as he was told for a change? "You're stubborn for a dead man, Jack."

"You'll be a dead man if you don't answer my questions," O'Neill threatened. But the words were hollow; O'Neill's laboured breathing betrayed his inability to follow through.

"I've got the gun this time, Jack, so cut the bullshit," Maybourne snapped, yanking on the wheel as a car swung into his lane. "Moron!" he yelled, banging on the horn. "This is ridiculous," he added, concentrating on the traffic.

"What is going on?" O'Neill asked again, also watching the traffic.

"Panic," Maybourne said simply. "They all think it's the end of the world because a bug's gotten out."

Despite his apparent weakness, O'Neill's gaze was anything but frail when Maybourne looked at him again. Maybourne sighed. "The NID screwed up, Jack, and we've got a problem. One that could destroy us this time."

"So why break me out?" O'Neill asked suspiciously, but Maybourne was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Because you've got the antibody, Jack. If we get you to Fraiser and Harlowe, chances are they can whip up a miracle cure a lot faster with your blood work."

O'Neill's eyes widened. "No," he said flatly.

"Jack, these bugs will wipe us all out!" Maybourne snapped. "Everyone, Jack, including Fraiser, and Carter, and everyone else you ever cared about."

"What?" O'Neill snapped, and Maybourne almost felt the energy that suddenly surged through O'Neill. "Who did you say?"

"Carter," Maybourne repeated. And then, gently, "She's alive, Jack, and I'm taking you to her. If you help us."

The silence in the car was broken by the sound of the cell phone clicking open in O'Neill's hands. "Prove it," he whispered, but Maybourne knew he'd already won.

"You'll have to ask Samuels. But I know he doesn't like her, so he's likely to have her locked up in a cell again," Maybourne admitted.

O'Neill swore violently beneath his breath as Maybourne jerked the wheel again to avoid another near collision, dropping the phone at his feet.

"Call Samuels and let him know I have you," Maybourne instructed as O'Neill struggled to retrieve the small object, "and find out what the fuck he was doing, trying to call me before I was ready!"

O'Neill nodded, and the synthesised tones of the cell phone stretched across the air between them.

**---**

**Washington DC**

"Cass, where exactly are we going?" Bek demanded, her hands white-knuckled as she braced herself on the dashboard.

"Shit!" Cass hissed, swerving and stepping heavily on the brake. The small Volvo squealed to a stop, and she peered through the windscreen with wide eyes. "We'll never make it at this rate!" she cried, slapping her hands on the wheel in frustration.

"Cass?" Bek asked again.

"Academy Airstrip," Cass answered, staring ahead and trying to find a gap in the traffic she could squeeze the Volvo into. "Mom said they'll get us on a flight to the Springs if we meet them at the Western Perimeter."

"Western Perimeter?" Bek repeated doubtfully, and Cass flushed slightly at the look.

"Yeah… It's not entirely an authorised flight," she admitted.

Bek's eyebrows rose a few centimetres, but she didn't comment on the fact. Instead, she looked past Cass and out of the window. "We are west of the airfield, Cass," Bek remarked. "It's across there; there's a track that leads right up to the fence," she added.

"Could we hike it in time?" Cass questioned doubtfully, glancing at her watch. "We have to be there by 8am."

"There's no way we'll drive there in time," Bek shrugged. "We _might_ make it in twenty minutes, but that's optimistic."

"One chance to get out of here, Bek, that's all we've got. And it's either in this car, or on that plane," Cass pointed out. "If we leave the car, someone will most likely steal it."

Bek only hesitated for two seconds. "Okay, we go. Come on."

They grabbed their knapsacks, locked the car and wove across the traffic laden road, leaving the small Volvo abandoned on the side. The grass was long and the sun hot on their backs. Cassie swallowed roughly; this wasn't Hanka. Her Mom would save them. She had to save them.

**---**

**Nuclear Facility **

"Maybourne's got him," Samuels announced, snapping the phone shut with an audible click. "They'll look out for Cassandra, Fraiser, but they won't wait for her. Traffic's bad, so she has a bit more time to get the perimeter," he said blandly before leaving the room.

"I hate that asshole," Janet spat viciously, raking her fingers through her hair.

"Stand in line." The vicious mutter went almost unheard, but Janet tensed and turned to face Sam who was still sitting on a chair, watching her with an indifferent expression carefully masking her face.

"Sam," Janet began.

"Not now, Janet," Sam shook her head, the light catching the fine strands of hair on her scalp.

"No, I have to tell you," Janet said firmly.

Sam's shadowed blue eyes met her gaze steadily, and a wave of guilt turned her saliva to bile in her mouth. "I… I knew you didn't do it," Janet whispered.

_Did you do it, Sam?_

_How could you even ask me that?_

Sam nodded silently, but she didn't respond.

"Sam?"

"It's over, Janet. Whether I did it or not, it doesn't matter. They still died, all of them." The words were as empty as Sam's gaze, and Janet shivered.

"I knew… I knew how much you cared abo-"

"No," Sam snapped viciously. "No, Janet."

Janet nodded, twisting her fingers awkwardly in the cotton of her shirt.

"You should go," Sam said softly, "Maybourne will be here soon with Teal'c, and you and Harlowe need to be ready."

Janet nodded again, and flicked her gaze over Sam once more. There was a small glimmer of understanding in Sam's eyes. A slight smile touched the corners of Janet's lips; it tasted bittersweet.

**---**

**Washington DC**

"Bek, if we make it through this, make me exercise more often," Cass puffed, groaning as they staggered over several roots.

Bek only nodded, using the back of her already damp hand to try and wipe the moisture off her forehead. Her slick skin just spread the sweat and stuck her long strands of hair to her face. "There!" she gasped, pointing as they broke through the tree line and stumbled into the sunlight. 300m further, the sun glinted off a tall, sturdy metal fence lined with barbed wire. "What now?"

"Can you see anyone?" Cass asked, shielding her eyes and squinting along the fence line.

Bek copied her movements, sunspots dancing across her vision in the sudden brightness of the open sunshine. "No," she murmured, swallowing. Her mouth was dry and she was hot.

But Cass wouldn't give up; Bek had never known Cass to just give in. "Come on," Cass whispered, a fresh burst of energy gripping her as she took hold of Bek's slippery hand and pulled her forward.

"What are you doing?" Bek demanded, staggering across the open field behind Cassandra. "Cass!"

"There's still a chance, Bek," Cass muttered, her breathing already loud and laboured again. "If we see them at the plane already… Come on…"

"You're insane!" Bek hissed, running after Cassandra anyway. That's always the way it was, she mused silently – Cass led and Bek followed, despite the age differences.

"There!" The satisfaction and relief weren't even disguised on Cass' voice as she pointed. A vehicle bounced into a view; a dark green truck careening crazily through the long grass as it raced towards them alongside the fence. "Come on, Bek, it's them!"

Bek didn't even bother trying to ask how Cass knew it was them from this distance away, she just followed.

**---**

**Washington DC**

"My truck!" Jack complained, wincing as the vehicle bounced over ruts and potholes hidden by the long grass.

"We'll get you another one, Jack," Maybourne promised carelessly, fighting with the wheel to keep the truck from crashing into the fence they were precariously close to. The side window scraped along the metal and cracked off, and Jack cursed violently.

"Relax, Jack!" Maybourne told him.

"Relax, Jack," Jack huffed, grunting as his head connected with the window next to him again. "Maybourne, are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Of course not," Maybourne scoffed.

"There! Maybourne, slow down!" he yelled, pointing. "Damn it, Maybourne, slow down or you'll hit her!"

"Relax!" Maybourne retorted again, but he cut the engine abruptly and the truck shuddered to a halt, pitching Jack forward again.

"Remind me _never_ to drive with you again, Maybourne!" he muttered, fumbling with his seat belt. By the time he unbuckled himself and clambered out of the truck, there were two girls watching them, one staring in open disbelief. A smile broke out onto his face, and as the strength returned to his jellied limbs he stepped forwards, holding his arms out wide. "Cass!"

"Jack!" she shouted, and she was twelve again, launching herself at him and hugging him close. Hot and sticky and solid in his arms, she clung to him, her fingers digging into him as she pressed herself against him. "Jack!" she murmured again, her body shuddering against his.

"Shhh…" he crooned, stroking her hair and rocking her slightly. "I'm here, Cass, I'm right here."

"I thought.. the bomb… Sam… Oh… Jack," she stuttered incoherently, her fingers digging in deeper and creating a dull ache of pain in his tender flesh. But he didn't mind; it reminded him that he was real and that she was real and that this was real.

"As touching as this is, folks, we really don't have time." Maybourne's voice intruded harshly on their reunion.

Cassie pulled back, but they didn't let go of each other.

"What are you doing, Maybourne?" Jack asked warily as Maybourne produced a set of wire cutters.

"I'm a convicted felon, Jack, there's no way they'll just let me take a plane," he pointed out bluntly.

"What?" The young girl who Jack had completely forgotten about stepped into the middle of the conversation with the politeness of a dog biting an ankle. "A criminal?" she demanded. "Cass, who are these people?"

"This is Jack," Cassie announced firmly. Jack recognised the rebellious tone creeping into her voice. He remembered that tone well, and how it had driven both Fraiser and Carter insane.

"And him?" The girl pointed at Maybourne with a long, well manicured fingernail.

"That's Maybourne," Jack answered smoothly as Maybourne shot the girl a disdainful glance before turning back to the fence with his wire cutters. "And you are?"

"Bek," both girls stated together.

"She's my best friend, Jack," Cass added, "and I'm not leaving here behind." The defiance surprised him.

"I wouldn't ask you to," he pointed out.

"Jack," Maybourne hissed through clenched teeth, "this was not a part of the deal!"

"It is now!" Jack grinned. "You done yet?"

"Almost," Maybourne grunted. "Samuels is going to kill me," he added wearily.

"Screw Samuels," Jack said darkly.

"I'd rather not," Maybourne replied snidely. The piece of fencing clattered as it fell to the ground. "We're through."

"Lead on McDuff," Jack held and arm out, "this isn't my plan, remember, so you lead."

"What is the plan?" Bek asked once they had clambered through the fence and started jogging across the empty expanse of grassy fields towards the hangers in the distance.

"We get a plane and fly to Colorado," Maybourne answered.

"Easy," Bek commented, puffing slightly.

Sweat was rolling down Jack's forehead and each breath of the muggy air stuck to the lining of his lungs.

"Jack?" Cassie gasped next to him.

"I'm fine," he rasped, ignoring the cramping of his legs and abdominal muscles. "Haven't… been… running for… a while," he managed. Yeah, and being locked up didn't help matters either.

"Move it, Jack!" Maybourne ordered sharply.

Jack ground his teeth in silence, trying to keep up. His heart thundered in his ears, and an inky blackness was framing the edges of his visions with curling tendrils slowly seeping away his sight.

Someone grabbed his arm; Maybourne. "Come on, Jack," he groaned, tugging Jack's strangely heavy arm over his shoulders and wrapping his arm around Jack's waist. "Don't you dare get the wrong idea," he added.

"And here I thought… it was a… fantasy," Jack retorted, trying to breathe.

The hangers were closer, he realised with relief. Much closer.

"Jack?" Maybourne asked, slowing the pace slightly.

"Yeah?"

"You can fly a plane right?"

"Of course I can fly a plane," Jack snapped snidely, trying to catch his breath. "Air force, remember?"

"Good, because I can't."

---


	4. Chapter 4

**---**

**PART FOUR**

---

**Nuclear Facility**

Walter found Doctor Fraiser in a small room that she and Doctor Harlowe had set up as a laboratory. The petite woman was fiddling with some instruments, apparently unaware of his presence in the doorway.

"Um, Doctor Fraiser, excuse me, Ma'am."

"Sergeant." She smiled briefly at him in greeting before she turned back to her workspace again. "What can I do for you?"

"I just thought I'd let you know that Maybourne called in a while ago, Ma'am. Cassandra is safe, and so is her friend."

The tension seemed to drain from her body, and she smiled radiantly at him. "Thank you," she breathed as though it was his work that had saved her daughter.

"That's okay, Ma'am," he smiled shyly.

"Was there anything else?" she enquired politely, her eyebrows arching delicately.

"Uh… no, Ma'am," he shook his head before shuffling quickly out of the room, and crashed straight into Major Carter. "Oh! Sorry, Ma'am," he mumbled, stepping away from her hurriedly.

"It's okay, Sergeant," she offered him a slight smile, her skin glowing palely in the dimly lit hallway.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah," she muttered, "a way out."

He stared at her blankly. "Out?"

"I'm not running away, Sergeant, I just want to go outside for a while. Fresh air. Taste freedom, you know?"

No, he didn't know, but then he hadn't spent the last three years locked in isolation with only other prisoners and guards for company. "Um…"

"For crying out loud, Walter, I'm not running off!" she snapped as she pushed past him angrily.

"Wait!" he called, his voice bouncing loudly up the hall. She turned silently and faced him, her eyes even bigger than usual without the thick halo of hair to soften her face. "It's this way, Major."

She grinned at him, her teeth gleaming white. "My name is Sam," she said casually.

He smiled in return, and led her to freedom.

**----**

"Maybourne!" Jack yelled, levelling out the aircraft.

"Coming," the ex-Colonel yelled back, appearing in the co-pilot's seat several seconds later. "What?"

"It's on autopilot," Jack announced. "You take over."

Maybourne's eyes widened. "What?"

"I need a break, Maybourne. Just don't touch anything, and yell if ANYTHING changes."

"Jack!" Maybourne argued, slightly panicked by the sound of his voice.

"Either we land the plane now, or you give me twenty minutes," Jack said icily. He just needed to close his eyes, just for a few minutes.

Maybourne nodded stiffly. "Okay. But you'll be there, right?"

"Yes." Jack rose to his feet and moved away, stopping to call back, "Don't break it!"

Cass and Bek were each sprawled against a crate, watching him silently as he moved towards them. He smiled affectionately as Cassie's large, concerned eyes speared him. "Are you really okay, Jack?"

"I'm fine, Cass," he lied, and groaned as he lowered his aching body to the ground next to her.

"You don't look fine," Bek said bluntly. He studied her for a second; hair shoulder length hair was tangled and wild, and there was dirt streaked across her face. Despite her grubbiness, he imagined that normally she was almost anal about her appearance. She raised her eyebrows defiantly, as though daring him to comment about her state of disarray.

He grinned. "You've always known how to pick them, Cass," he told her.

Cassie glared at him. "Don't you dare start!" she warned.

He held his hands up innocently, closing his eyes as he leant back against the crate. "I wasn't going to."

"Where the fuck have you been, Jack O'Neill?" she snapped suddenly.

He choked, his eyes flying open as he glanced at her sharply. "You watch that language, Cassandra Fraiser!" he warned.

"You just disappeared!" she accused, ignoring his warning, and he felt a stab of guilt prick at him. The next question was so quiet he barely even heard it. "Were you even there when the bomb went off?"

Yes. He had been there. But Carter had called him, to warn him about something. He remembered stepping outside and the air had been cold. His car keys were warm from resting in his pocket and the ground had rumbled and suddenly there had been pain and noise and heat and nothing all at once. "I was there," he said quietly.

"They said you died," she told him evenly.

"I know."

"Where were you, Jack?" she demanded, angry.

"Come here," he said. She came, curling up against him as though she was eleven again and crying because Carter was a Goa'uld. "I was in hospital for a long, long time," he said gently. "I should have died," he added.

She stiffened in his arms, and pulled away, her eyes wide as realisation dawned. "You had a symbiote," she whispered.

The flinch was instinctive.

"God... Jack…" she whispered, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay," he told her. "We're safe now."

"Yes, very safe," she agreed, relaxing against him.

He looked up; Bek was watching them silently, openly curious but sensitive enough not to ask questions. He wondered how she'd react when she found out the truth, and allowed himself a small smile. Doubtlessly it would be an interesting reaction, if her appearance was anything to go by.

**---**

**Nuclear Facility**

"It's hot," Sam commented languidly, staring up at the clear blue sky peeking down at her from between the leafy green tree tops.

"Yeah," Walter Davis agreed from a few feet away. "Too hot," he added.

"No," Sam disagreed. "It's good." Her skin was sticky with sweat; the slightest hint of a breeze kissed her pale flesh coolly and brought a light tickle of the pine to her nose. She wouldn't mind seeing the ocean again, to feel the salty liquid brush against her heated skin like iced silk.

She sighed.

"It's not usually this hot here." Davis broke the silence between them.

"You come here often?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah. I was transferred here about six weeks after Doctor Fraiser was discharged."

Sam rolled over onto her side and propped her head up on her hands, watching Davis where he was perched on a rock. "Janet was discharged?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah. She had a run-in with General Bauer; he got command again after Hammond died."

She flinched visibly.

"I'm sorry," he apologised gently.

"It's okay," she said softly, rolling onto her back again and staring up at the sky once more. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," he agreed cautiously.

"Did everyone really think I'd done it?" she whispered, hoping her voice wouldn't break. "Did everyone really think that I was capable of setting that bomb and killing them?"

He didn't answer her, and Sam closed her eyes in defeat. Even if they did stop the bugs, she gained nothing. They had effectively robbed her of everything; even taken the faith and trust others had placed in her and turned it to nothing but betrayal.

"At first, no," Walter said at last. "But then they brought forward the evidence… it really looked like you did it," he admitted.

She nodded silently; there was no use blaming him. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"It was hard to know what to believe," he continued. "I knew you, I worked with you almost every day, and I knew how you felt about the Colonel. I honestly couldn't understand _why_ you would have done it, and that made me wonder whether, despite the evidence, you hadn't."

"Was I that transparent?" she asked bitterly.

"About what?" he asked.

"About how I felt about the Colonel." It didn't seem to wrong to say it out loud, now that he was dead and she was technically dead too. No regulations or repercussions or reputations to worry about anymore.

"Like I said, Major, I knew you."

She looked at him again, twisting her neck so that the dry blades of grass grazed her cheek. "I'm sorry," she said at last.

"For what?"

"For not knowing you like that."

**---**

**Nuclear facility**

During the course of his life, Maybourne had seen many things both good and bad. He had never, however, seen a dead man return, and neither had he seen the reactions of those that cared about him when they realised he was alive.

Like now.

Fraiser was staring, her daughter forgotten as her mouth dropped open and she struggled to form coherent syllables.

"Miss me?" O'Neill asked chirpily, but Maybourne wasn't stupid; he could see the surprise and slight disbelief as he watched the strength of Fraiser's reaction.

"Colonel O'Neill!" Fraiser managed to gasp out, her face pale and shocked but a broad smile revealing her straight white teeth. "Jack." The gentleness on her voice shocked Maybourne, and if he didn't know any better he would have thought there was something between them.

"C'mere," O'Neill said gruffly, and a second later they were hugging one another fiercely. When they pulled back, Fraiser's eyes were wet and O'Neill looked distinctly uncomfortable with his arms, as though he was unsure what to do with them. Eventually, he just pushed his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat roughly. "So, nice place you got here, Samuels," he remarked.

"We try," Samuels returned coolly. "Well, we're wasting time standing here, people."

"Where's Carter?" O'Neill demanded, ignoring Samuels. "Maybourne, you said Carter was here."

Maybourne glanced across at Samuels, who shrugged in return.

"Maybourne?" O'Neill was getting angry; that was bad.

"She was here, Jack," Fraiser interjected, looking uncomfortable.

"What do you mean, 'was'?" O'Neill snapped.

"She disappeared a few hours ago," Samuels interjected. "Along with Water Davis."

O'Neill's eyebrows rose. "Walter Davis?"

"Yes, that's who I said," Samuels snapped.

"We need Davis," Maybourne muttered.

"I know!" Samuels agreed vehemently, turning to face Maybourne. "I told you getting her was a bad idea. We don't need her, Maybourne, and-"

"I wouldn't go there." O'Neill's voice was quiet, but it held the sting of a rattle snake. "I would so not go there."

The silence was tense and awkward, stretching until Maybourne waited for something to snap. Nothing did snap, however, because there was movement behind them, and Maybourne turned around to see one sweaty Walter Davis entering the room.

"Davis!" O'Neill barked.

Davis' face paled and his jaw dropped open as he gaped at O'Neill.

"S… Sir?" he questioned.

"Where's Carter?"

"Outside… She wanted some fresh air," he explained brokenly, still staring at O'Neill.

"O'Neill!" Samuels called as the man in question simply pushed past Davis and strode into the hall.

"Fuck you, Samuels!" The words floated back loudly into the room, and Maybourne shrugged again as Samuels glanced at him accusingly.

Cassandra Fraiser spoke first, her voice almost childlike with disbelief as she whispered, "Sam's alive?"

---

**Nuclear Facility**

He hadn't allowed himself to hope that it may be true. Hadn't even let himself consider the possibility that she was alive, much less that he'd see her again.

_Carter was executed yesterday, O'Neill._

_What?_

_Didn't you know? She was the one who planted the bomb. She killed Hammond and Jackson. And you._

Carter was executed yesterday. He could still hear the words, feel the way his blood turned cold, and the world had narrowed down to a tiny little hospital room with squealing machines and coolly efficient nurses who never spoke to him.

He found her almost immediately after entering the sparse bushland, lying on her stomach with her face pressed close to the ground, palms spread as though she was trying to absorb the earth into her body.

Dry leaves and twigs had given his position away, so she knew he was there, but he couldn't bring himself to say the first words, to break the first silence between them.

"Did you have a good flight, Cass?" she asked softly.

He frowned in confused amusement. "Not a bad flight, no," he told her.

He had never seen Carter move so fast; she was up on her feet and facing him before he had even finished the sentence, crouched in a fighter's position. He saw the blood leaving her face, turning it to ice as she seemed to drink him in with her eyes.

"Hi," he muttered, suddenly awkward again.

"You… I…" She couldn't complete the sentence. For the first time ever, Sam Carter couldn't string together a coherent sentence. He should have felt quite proud of himself for being the one to accomplish that feat, but instead he felt guilt. Guilt that he was capable of putting such an expression of _terror_ on her face.

"Yes, me Jack, you Sam," he said, trying and failing miserably to mimic Tarzan. And what had possessed him to say that anyway? Idiot, Jack.

She surprised him though. "That was lame, sir, even for you."

"Yes, I know," he agreed morosely. "Being dead for a few years does that to a person."

Well, if the first comment didn't do it, the second one definitely did. He watched her turn into wood before his eyes, her jaw stiffening and her eyes dropping invisible barriers that were more effective than her gun at keeping him away.

"I… Carter…"

"I… I thought you were dead," she said stiffly.

"Yeah, apparently you all thought that," he agreed. "I thought you were dead too."

"But you're not," she said.

"No, I'm not. And neither are you."

A small smile pulled at the edges of her lips. "No, I'm not."

"Now that we've established that-"

"How?" she asked, and suddenly it was his turn to hide behind those barriers they had perfected. "Colonel?"

He licked his lips; the air was too hot and it was closing in on him and he couldn't get away and-

"Oh God."

Carter had always been too smart for her own good, hadn't she?

"They blended you with a symbiote." It wasn't a question, and he didn't deny it.

He watched her silently, seeing the way the thoughts were spinning furiously behind her large blue eyes, the way her pale brow crinkled in thought as she ran ideas through her mind and discarded them.

She reached a conclusion, and when she met his gaze again, her eyes were disbelieving. "Sir," she started, and then stopped herself. "Colonel-"

"Jack," he interrupted, wasting just a few more minutes before they had to go into it.

"Jack," she said, trying the word. It rolled over her tongue smoothly, and in spite of the situation, he smiled at her. "Jack."

"Sam," he smiled at her.

She smiled back, but it faded quickly. "They're here, aren't they?"

He nodded.

"Fuck, they really did screw up," she breathed.

"Oh yeah," he agreed.

---


	5. Chapter 5

**PART FIVE**

---

**Nuclear Facility**

"Is this it?" O'Neill questioned from his vantage point at the head of the table, quickly surveying the small group of people gathered in the room.

Janet cast her eyes around the room: Walter, Samuels, Maybourne, Harlowe, Cassandra, Bek and Sam. A small, unlikely group, she mused.

"No," Samuels shook his head. "Paul Davis will arrive sometime tonight or early tomorrow with a few more men; he's been stuck in DC dealing with the crisis."

"The real crisis?" O'Neill asked demurely, "or your cover story?"

Samuels blushed, and Janet _knew_ she'd been wrong to trust him. Samuels was always in it for himself, the weak, lying bastard that he was.

"Colonel O'Neill," Harlowe interrupted, "the bugs are a very real threat. Unless I get that sample of your blood _soon_, I don't know whether it will even be worth trying to create a vaccine."

"I wouldn't say the bugs aren't a threat," Sam agreed, "but they're not the only threat, are they?"

"No." Samuels said shortly.

"Would you mind explaining the rest of the situation to me?" Janet asked politely, stepping firmly on her temper.

"Need to know," Samuels said coldly, his eyes flicking pointedly towards Cass and Bek.

"Where are they supposed to go, Samuels?" the Colonel demanded. "They know about the bugs already, and Cass is well acquainted with the rest. Probably more acquainted than you," he added scathingly.

Oh, shit. Janet's eyes widened as she realised where O'Neill was going.

"This is a mil-" Samuels started defending.

"A what?" O'Neill interrupted. "A military operation?" he mocked. "Take a look around, Samuels. You have two convicted criminals, a dishonourably discharged medical doctor, a geneticist, a geek and a dead man. We're not a military operation; I doubt the military has any idea that this meeting is even taking place!"

Samuels' silence was damning. "Now, Samuels, the truth," O'Neill said calmly. "All of it this time."

Janet watched Samuels as he neatened the papers on the table in front of him before looking around the crowded room. "I'm sure most of you are aware of the existence of a second Stargate," he said easily. "We believe that during the time it was under NID control, shortly after the discovery of it in Antarctica, an NID team was somehow infected with a Goa'uld, and from there they set themselves up. The arrival of the retro virus in the flying parasite that had stung Teal'c would have been fantastic timing as far as the Goa'uld were concerned."

"How long, exactly, have you been aware of this Goa'uld presence?" Janet demanded.

"A few months ago, we got our proof," Samuels admitted. "We had a reasonable amount of information on them, and started this operation. We hadn't counted on them being aware of our plans and measures against them," he said darkly.

"What exactly are you saying, Samuels?" Janet was impatient, and Samuel's ability to avoid the issue was really beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Major Carter had to be removed from the SGC three years ago," Samuels said, "because she alone was able to detect their presence. Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond were also problems, because they made it clear how they felt about NID operations. At that stage, the Goa'uld were already well up our chain of command, only we didn't realise it."

"So they set me up?" Sam said quietly. "They planted the bomb that killed Hammond and Daniel, made it look like it killed Colonel O'Neill, and framed me for it."

"Yes," Samuels said. "You were supposed to be executed for that, but my colleagues and I thought it prudent to keep you alive because we were beginning to suspect."

"The only reason you got Carter out was because you didn't know I'd been a host too, correct?" O'Neill demanded.

"Her abilities aside, Colonel, Major Carter has experience and a technical knowledge we are hard pressed to equal," Samuels ground out, "so there is more than one reason we went to all the trouble of making it appear as though she were dead."

"So what do you want from me, Samuels?" Sam asked tiredly, resting her head in her hands. For the first time since Janet had seen Sam, Sam looked tired. Worn. As though she had reached the end. "You need me to be a Goa'uld detector?"

"Like I said, Major Carter, we have a big problem on our hands and we need all the help we can get. The Goa'uld got hold of the specimen, as Colonel O'Neill is well aware, and manipulated it so that the virus now works to suit them."

"How so?" Janet asked curiously.

"Alone, a Goa'uld symbiote was unable to withstand the affects of the virus, Doctor Fraiser," Harlowe inserted. "The new virus acts slower, and gives the symbiote more time to defeat it."

"And it works?" Janet asked doubtfully.

"O'Neill's alive, isn't he?" Samuels snapped.

"You knew what they were doing to me, and you didn't get me out?" O'Neill demanded.

"We didn't know," Samuels said curtly. "Not until a few months ago."

"Relax, Jack," Maybourne cut in, "even if we had known they had you, there's no way we could have gotten you out before."

"What did they do to him?" Sam demanded.

The silence in the room was thick and rich with something nobody wanted to vocalise. Eventually, Maybourne cleared his throat. "They infested him with a Goa'uld, and used him as a guinea pig to try out their new virus. Several times."

Janet's eyes immediately flew to O'Neill, but he avoided everyone's gaze and stared at the floor, refusing to acknowledge what Maybourne said. Janet felt cold and hard inside.

"So we have Goa'uld wiping out the planet with a race of super bugs that turns our DNA into their DNA," Janet summarised bluntly. "What exactly is our plan to stop this?"

"We have to wait for Paul to arrive from the Pentagon; he's got more information on the levels of infiltration at the SGC. He might also have a means for us to contact the Asgard," Samuels explained. "What we need to do now is get blood samples from O'Neill so you and doctor Harlowe can start working on a cure for this virus."

O'Neill laughed bitterly, pushing his chair back roughly as he rose to his feet. "You don't get it, do you Samuels?"

"Get what?" Samuels demanded.

"You can't stop them. You have no fucking idea of how far they've spread. You can't just stop them."

**---**

**Nuclear Facility**

She'd had nightmares of this happening. Ever since Sam had been taken by Jolinar, Cassandra had been terrified of one of them getting infested off-world. She'd also been terrified of that infestation happening on Earth, and of no-one noticing it.

Sitting here, in this dimly lit, cramped room was a culmination of her worst fears. She remembered this place from years before, the dark warren of concrete and deterioration where Sam had almost abandoned her to a dark and empty death. For years she had been unable to go into small spaces, and she feared the dark in a way she had feared nothing before. Once again she was within it's stone bowels being handed her nightmares on a cracked clay platter where she could sit and watch her world slowly get torn apart.

Cassie swallowed roughly, trying to ignore the darkness of her thoughts, and turned her attention to the other occupants in the room.

Jack was talking to Samuels, the two of them poring over the table where several documents had been spread. Their differences and disagreements had been forgotten in the last ten minutes, with everyone around the table focusing completely on the current problems.

"No," Samuels shook his head. "We tracked down Walter and Fraiser and set this place up here. We also got in contact with Harlowe."

"Why?" Jack interrupted sharply.

"We knew they were experimenting," Samuels said simply. "I didn't realise it was you at the time, O'Neill, I swear. We just knew they were working on a vaccine that they could take so they wouldn't destroy their networks they'd set up."

"Why not just destroy us with their ships?" Sam asked.

"Against the Asgard Peace Treaty," Samuels pointed out. "Despite the fact that Bauer managed to piss the Asgard off to the point where they have nothing to do with us, we are still under the Protected Planets Treaty, which is why they've resorted to using these bugs. Under the treaty, there is nothing to stop them from being on Earth, they just can't wipe us out. And we can't prove that it was a Goa'uld who let the bugs escape because the NID was involved with experimentation as well, through Doctor Harlowe."

Cassandra blinked, rubbing at her face with her hands.

"Cass?" Bek whispered, nudging her arm hesitantly.

She'd forgotten about Bek, sitting silently beside her. "Yeah?"

"This… this is real?"

"Unfortunately," she confirmed.

"And you _knew_ about it?"

A bitter smile touched Cass' lips. "Yeah."

"These… these Goa'uld…" Bek stumbled over the word, her pronunciation slightly skewed, but Cass let it pass. Far be it for her to care about someone pronouncing the snakes' name incorrectly.

"They're bad. Very bad," Cass whispered.

"And they want to kill us?"

"More like enslave," Cass corrected. "But yeah, they're bad."

"Are you _insane_!" Janet shrieked, interrupting their whispered conversation. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" O'Neill returned calmly.

"You don't have the manpower, Colonel, or the resources. I doubt you'd even be able to access the SGC!" she pointed out sharply. "Besides, we need you here for the vaccine."

"I'll donate some more blood," Jack returned evenly. "And then I'll go."

"At least wait until Paul arrives, Jack," Maybourne suggested. "He might bring some more intel."

"You can't go, sir," Sam added quietly.

Cassie watched with interest as Jack spared Sam a soft glance. "I have to, Carter."

"Yes, you do," she agreed simply, "but not now. You couldn't even run a mile, judging from what I've heard today and the way you look now."

"You're not exactly fighting fit yourself, Carter," he snapped.

Sam's eyes glinted, and Cassie remembered from long experience that it was a bad idea to get Sam annoyed at you. "No, I'm not, but I'm not the one who was infested with a Goa'uld to keep him alive after getting caught in a bomb explosion, and who was then experimented on for various reasons."

"Wait until Paul Davis arrives," Samuels interjected, and Cass felt herself nodding in agreement. "That will give you time to rest, for us to formulate a better plan of attack, and for the doctors to start working on a vaccine."

Jack knew when he was beaten, it seemed. "Okay. Fine."

"Right then." Samuels rose to his feet, gathering the loose documents. "I suggest that we all meet again as soon as Paul arrives. Until then, make yourselves at home," he added cordially.

"What about us?" Cass questioned. "What do Bek and I do?" The looks Cassie received were patronising at best, and she bristled under the implications. "I have as much right to help as you all do!" she said firmly. "I want to help."

Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Okay," he said, "we'll think of something."

"Me too!" Bek chimed in.

---

**3:40pm**

"You've been released?" Sam asked, spying the Colonel sprawled on his back and staring up at the sky through the trees.

"Temporarily," he returned, turning his head to gaze up her as she came to a standstill next to him. He was chewing on a grass-stalk, and as her eyes rested on it he pulled it out of his mouth with his fingers. "Carter, can I ask you something?"

She frowned. "Okay?"

"Do you have _anything_ else to wear? I mean, that orange is really… bright."

She glanced down at herself, still clad in the bright orange prison-issued suit. "Sorry, Sir, I left my suitcase at home when they arrested me. And prison really doesn't have much opportunity for shopping," she added scathingly.

He had the good grace to look slightly apologetic, so she dropped to the ground beside him, resting her chin on her knees and catching her wrists around her legs.

"Sorry," he said uncomfortably.

"It's okay," she shrugged, and then glanced at him. "It's not like your wardrobe is much better."

The jeans were far too short for him, and the plaid shirt didn't look very comfortable.

"You've lost weight," she announced.

He raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised by her statement. "I guess I have," he agreed. And then, as if he took her comment as permission, he returned the favour. "You have too. And you haven't been getting enough sun, Carter."

"Same goes for you," she returned, a smile beginning to creep over her lips.

"Also, I have to confess something," he added, taking a deep breath. "The new hair cut? It really doesn't work for me."

"Yeah?" she asked, running a hand over the soft cap of curls starting to grow back. "Feels kinda cool though," she told him.

"May I?" he asked.

She shrugged, and lowered her head so that he could lift a hand and touch her hair. This was quite possibly the most ridiculous situation she'd ever been in with him, she decided as his fingers tentatively glided over her 'bristle'.

"What do you think?" she asked him curiously.

"Well," he drawled thoughtfully. "It's soft… and it tickles."

"Easy to keep neat," she added.

"Yeah, very easy. Not much fun though," he commented. And then he ruffled her hair. Not roughly, just quickly jiggling his fingers over it and raising the static within the short strands.

"Sir!" she said sharply. "Don't mess with the 'do!"

"Sorry, Carter," he said contritely, removing his hand from her hair and letting it rest on her back. It was warm where it lay against the rough material, a comforting weight. She sighed deeply and smiled, leaning back and letting his arm support her.

"I missed you," she said, surprising both herself and him with the words.

His fingers contracted on her back, the movement a brief acknowledgement of understanding. "Yeah, me too," he agreed. "How are you, Carter?"

"I'm fine, sir," she said evenly.

Again, the slight movement of his fingers on her back. She felt warm inside, warm and content suddenly. The sun was shining, dappling down on them as they sat with each other.

God she'd missed him. _Really_ missed him.

"How are you?" she asked, swallowing past the sudden thickness in her throat.

He chuckled. "That's not fair."

"Yes it is," she smiled. "You were hurt. You almost died."

"So did you," he pointed out, his voice a lot more serious than she had been.

Yes, but she didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not while she could sit here for a few hours and pretend that everything was okay and fine and that none of the last four years had happened.

"Carter?"

"It's over, sir," she said softly.

"No," he said softly, "it's not over. Not yet."

His fingers were moving steadily across her back, their movements firm. "I wish it was," she admitted.

"Me too. When it's over, Carter, I'll take you fishing."

"That would be assuming your cabin is still there," she pointed out cynically. "God knows what they did with it after they announced you dead."

"I left it to you," he admitted.

"And I left all my stuff to Cass," she admitted.

"Then I guess we should ask Cass," he told her lazily.

"Yeah."

His hand moved from her back to her arm, down past her elbow and coming to a rest on her wrist. "I'm tired, Carter," he said simply.

She regarded him silently. He tugged on her wrist, and smiled slightly. She went willingly, curling up against him, her head cradled on his shoulder and his arm curling around her waist.

His breath ruffled her short hair, and his heart echoed beneath her ear.

"Go to sleep," she whispered.

And they both did.

---


	6. Chapter 6

**---**

**PART SIX**

---

**5:18pm**

"What's their progress?" Doctor Fraiser asked as she walked towards him.

"Faster than we thought," Walter admitted, sitting back in his chair and rubbing at his face. "I've been checking the reports filed on the Defence Board."

"How long before they reach us?" she asked.

"Twenty four hours, maximum. The mountains will hold them up for a while, but the reports I'm seeing... it doesn't look good at all, Ma'am."

Fraiser sighed, and to Walter's surprise, she seated herself on his desk. "What else can you tell me, Walter?"

"They're swarming," he offered. "In the two days since the first cases were reported, over 600 people have been stung. In almost half of those the victims have all died and the bugs emerged, which makes us think the first bugs were released about a week ago. There's... there's a lot of bugs out there already."

"There would be," she acknowledged softly. "Any report on a vaccine maybe? Or something that helps?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Is there any mention of them being attracted to anything? Avoiding anything?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am," Walter said again, shaking his head. "Nothing. The reports are just that they're fast and fatal, the swarms are getting bigger. They're recommending that anyone who gets stung and dies should be burnt, before the new bugs have time to emerge."

"That's probably the best course of action," she agreed softly.

"Keep me posted, Walter."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Oh, and have you seen Major Carter or Colonel O'Neill?"

"No, Ma'am. Would you like me to find them?"

"No, that's okay."

He nodded and sighed as she left the room. Even if they got rid of the Goa'uld, they'd still be left with the very big and very real problem of the bugs.

**---**

**7:47pm**

"This waiting... it's driving me insane," Bek complained. "I'm going outside, Cass."

Cass looked up from where she was reading reports Sergeant Davis had let them have. "Have you even looked at these, Bek?" Cass asked.

"I don't want to," Bek said firmly. "Come on, Cass, we've been inside all day. Let's go get some fresh air before the bugs get here and we can't go outside anymore."

Cass sighed and put the sheets of paper on the table in front of her, rising reluctantly to her feet, and Bek nodded in approval.

"It's disgusting out here," Cass muttered.

"Stop complaining," Bek said. "Tomorrow you'll be complaining because we can't go outside."

"No," Cass disagreed, a gleam in her eye. "We won't be here tomorrow. Well, I won't be anyway."

Bek stared at Cassie. "What are you up to now?"

"They'll never do it on their own, Bek."

"Do what?"

"Break into the SGC."

Bek opened her mouth to comment, but words failed her.

"We have to help them, Bek. They'll need some help."

"How, Cass? We don't have that sort of training, or that sort of experience. God, to them we're just kids!"

"No, we're not. Where I grew up, when you were about fifteen, you were an adult. You got married and had your own family. You had to look after yourself then, even though your parents were still there."

"Where did you grow up then?" Bek asked pointedly.

"Hanka."

"Hanka?" Bek repeated. "No you didn't, you grew up in Toronto."

Cassandra shifted guiltily from where she'd seated herself, casting her gaze to the dark sky between the trees. "No, I grew up on a planet called Hanka. My entire world was wiped out by the Goa'uld, Bek."

Bek stared at Cassandra. "But... Funny, Cass, very funny."

"I'm serious, Bek!" Cassandra snapped. "Ask my Mom. Ask Janet. She's not my real mom; she adopted me after Sam, Jack, Teal'c and Daniel saved me."

"You're serious?"

"Yes!" Cassandra nodded. "How else would I know about the Stargate, Bek? You think that's something the people who work there are allowed to tell their children?" Cass' voice was breaking now. "God, Bek, they killed my family. I'm not going to sit here and let it happen again. I'm going to help them!"

Bek was quiet, staring at her friend. "You should have told me," she said softly.

Cass smiled, but the tears on her cheeks glistened. "I couldn't, Bek. You wouldn't have believed me anyway."

Yes, that was probably true.

Cass chuckled ruefully. "You still don't believe me."

"No, I do," Bek shook her head. "I do, it's just... It's so unreal," she whispered. "In one day everything I've ever thought I knew was true has been turned upside down. Our own government is involved with wiping us out. There are aliens. On Earth. God, _you're_ an alien!"

"If you think I'm alien, you would have loved Teal'c," Cass said dryly.

"Teal'c?" Bek questioned.

"Yeah. Big guy. Called a Jaffa. Now _he_ was alien."

"Cass?" Bek said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'll help too," she whispered. "I... I want to."

Cass nodded. "Okay. We'll figure something out then, as soon as they've decided what they're going to do."

**---**

**10:04pm**

"How's it going?" Sam asked as Janet walked into the small room acting as their kitchen.

"Tiring," Janet answered, smiling wearily.

"Coffee?" the Colonel offered.

"That," Janet said, "would be fantastic."

"Are you making any progress?" Sam asked as Janet sat herself at the table, groaning as she stretched her feet out in front of her.

"I think so, yes. Timothy is miles ahead of me with this, Sam, I'm nothing here but a glorified lab assistant."

"I'm sure that's not true," Sam said, offering a smile.

Janet smiled back, running a hand through her hair. "Oh, but it is. The most complicated thing I've done in the last two and a half years is perform an emergency intubation. The field has advanced so much... I'm learning more than helping, to be honest."

"Samuels did mention you weren't military anymore."

"Yeah, I work in a small practice with another doctor," Janet said softly.

"Here you go," O'Neill interrupted, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of Janet. "It was white and one, right?"

She nodded. "I'm surprised you remembered."

O'Neill shrugged and seated himself at the table. "So," he said.

"So," Janet echoed, sipping her coffee.

"Fill us in," Sam said.

"On what?"

"What happened while we were dead."

Janet sighed and placed the mug on the table. "The short story is Bauer got command, and you remember Bauer."

"He had his head so far up his ass, I'm surprised he could even breathe," O'Neill said darkly.

"Well," Janet said dryly, "his biggest concern was weapons. The bigger the better. All our research was focused on gaining new technologies. Then Kinsey started breathing down his neck because of the expenses and lack of turnover, and they started cutting corners. I got thrown out when I offered up objection against their changes to post-mission procedures."

"What kind of changes?" Sam asked curiously.

"Ultrasounds and scans, basically," Janet said, sighing. "I should have realised then, you know? Should have known there was a reason they specifically wanted the Ultrasounds to stop. I didn't even think that the Goa'uld could have infiltrated."

"They infiltrated a long time ago," O'Neill inserted quietly. "Years ago. Even before the Asgard Treaty."

"Oh, yeah, there's that too," Janet remembered. "Bauer's attitude was not received very well by the Asgard, and when Kinsey got Presidency and ignored several stipulations carefully spelled out by the Asgard, well... from what Walter's told me, the Asgard have pretty much left us to our own devices."

"The Goa'uld are going to bring out a vaccine," O'Neill said, breaking the silence that had settled over them. "Once they feel the population is small enough and subdued enough to accept their rule, they'll bring out the vaccine and save them. By the time they do that, there won't be enough of us left to even consider making a stand."

"Then we'll have to make our stand now," Sam said darkly.

"Even a vaccine doesn't completely solve the problem. Every living creature on this planet will be destroyed by those bugs; for the Goa'uld to gain anything of value from this plan worth their while – other than destroying Earth – they would have to have some way of efficiently and effectively destroying the bugs," Janet pointed out.

"If that's the case, how would they destroy the bugs in a way that won't destroy every other living creature?"

Janet sighed and shrugged. "I don't know. But unless the Goa'uld MO has changed – which I doubt – everything we need to know, everything of importance to this invasion is going to be kept under lock and key at their headquarters, so to speak."

"The SGC?" O'Neill theorised.

"Quite possibly. If it is infiltrated, they'd want to set up there because of the Stargate."

"That settles it then," Sam said, "we're going to have to get in and see what they have."

"I'm going to go with you," Janet told them.

"You can't," O'Neill disagreed. "They need you here, with the vaccine in case our theories are completely wrong."

"I just told you, Timothy is more than capable of doing this by himself. They only brought me in because they were worried that they couldn't ship Timothy here in time. And I think it had something to do with you, Colonel."

"What?" O'Neill raised his eyebrows.

"They're not stupid. You wouldn't have co-operated with Timothy. I doubt you even would have co-operated with Maybourne unless he had a good reason for you to be here," Janet pointed out.

The speed with which O'Neill's eyes flicked to Sam and then back to Janet was faster than Janet had thought possible, and she smiled.

"But you're both dumber than I gave you credit for if you think the two of you can go in there, guns blazing by yourselves, to save the planet. Neither of you are in any state to even _think_ about it."

Sam sighed. "I don't see us as having much choice, Janet."

---

_Thank you so much to everyone who's already left feedback! I really appreciate it!_


	7. Chapter 7

**---**

**PART SEVEN**

**---**

**July 30 3:03am **

**Nuclear Facility**

"We're running out of time!" Doctor Fraiser snapped, rising quickly to her feet.

"I am well aware of that, Doctor Fraiser," Paul Davis said calmly, not moving in his chair. "Believe me; I'm well aware of it. Estimates were overly optimistic; by the time the sun rises the bugs should be here."

Walter swallowed roughly, his fingers contracting slightly on the roughened table top that had become their meeting table. "What's the plan?" he asked, breaking the sudden silence that settled over the room.

"Harlowe and Fraiser get that vaccine done. I don't care what else; that is their priority," Paul instructed. "The rest of us are going to try and find a way to stop the bugs and the Goa'uld. Whichever order it happens in, I don't care, I just want it done."

"Even if we do find a vaccine in the next few hours or days, the damage these bugs can do is enough to completely destroy earth's entire eco-system as it stands."

"Isn't there anything we can do to just… I don't know… wipe them out?"

Walter glanced across to where the Cassandra's friend was leaning against a wall, her eyeliner smudged and her hair tangled untidily.

"It's not like a can of Raid will work," Maybourne sniped.

"But Bek's right," Doctor Fraiser said. "If we can just kill them, or find an effective way of eliminating a large proportion of their swarms we'll have a much better chance of recovering from this."

"We don't have a way to wipe them out though," Paul pointed out. "That's our problem, Doctor Fraiser."

Walter watched as Fraiser glanced at O'Neill, almost as though seeking his permission for something. He shook his almost imperceptibly. "What do we know about these bugs?" O'Neill questioned. "Harlowe, you've studied them, what can you tell us?"

"They swarm," Doctor Harlowe said. "They swarm, and seem to follow where large populations are, but it appears more random than calculated."

"Why?" Sam questioned.

"I assume it's because they can smell the people? Or detect them somehow. I didn't really focus on their behaviour, Sam. I'm a geneticist, not a biologist."

"No, this… this could be important," Sam said absently. "Colonel… do you remember the planet we found these bugs on?"

"Shit yeah," O'Neill said darkly. "I couldn't get that crap off my boots. It stuck like glue."

"When we arrived there, Sir, there was absolutely no sign of those bugs the first time. We were hardly on that planet for five minutes before the first one stung Teal'c. Seconds later the entire swarm came flying over those buildings."

"Your point, Carter?" O'Neill demanded.

"We did something that attracted them. How else could they have known that we were there?"

"Well, what did we do?" O'Neill asked. "We arrived, I stepped in the pigeon poop, and the bug that got Teal'c came out of nowhere. And then all hell broke loose."

"Maybe it's sound?" Doctor Fraiser suggested. "You would have been talking, right? And if these bugs are attracted to large populations, it doubtlessly because the people are talking."

"It could be smell too, for that matter, Janet," Sam pointed out. "Body heat, even."

"Going on these reports, the swarms seem to have definite travel directions, it just appears to be randomly chosen," Paul inserted.

"Where are the biggest swarms?" Sam asked.

"They were released in Nevada," Paul said as he unfolded a chart across the table. "We didn't realise until a few days had passed and the first swarms were reported. They moved here… across the west toward the coast… and reports confirm that there's a big one in the west." Smaller swarms are spreading, but the biggest infestations are around the big cities."

"So why do some follow the population, and others stay behind in the cities?" Walter questioned.

"Pity we can't just activate the Stargate and the energy field keeps them away," O'Neill commented.

"It couldn't be that simple. Again," Fraiser almost whispered, staring disbelievingly at O'Neill.

"What?" O'Neill asked curiously.

"It is a possibility," Sam agreed. "But it doesn't explain why the second we went through the bugs didn't attack us straight away."

"Excuse me!" O'Neill snapped.

"Care to share, ladies?" Maybourne asked.

"We've come across at least one species on another planet that was unable to penetrate an electrical field," Sam explained. "They were an energy based life form, though."

"These bugs aren't energy based, Sam, they're based on the same carbon chemistry principles that we are, complete with a retro virus that re-engineers DNA," Doctor Harlowe disagreed.

"But what if these bugs use the energy field to find their prey?" Sam suggested. "That would explain why they appeared out of nowhere within a few minutes of us arriving on the planet the first time."

"You just said the second time they didn't arrive straight away," Paul reminded her.

"The first time we stepped through the gate was after we had it active for several minutes while we checked the MALP readings; usual off world procedure," Sam stated. "Those minutes could have given the bugs time to swarm toward the gate from wherever they were before. The second time, the gate was activated, and we went almost straight through. We didn't stay around the Stargate either; we went for the buildings immediately, so even if the bugs did fly to the gate again, we didn't see them."

"Why didn't they find you then?" Maybourne asked.

"There were three of us in buildings; the energy signature we give isn't as strong as the Stargate's and would have been masked fairly easily," Sam answered easily. "By the time we got back to the Stargate, they'd found us anyway and simply joined in the chase."

"It sounds plausible, Sam, but there's no proof for that," Harlowe pointed out tiredly, rubbing at his eyes.

"I know that, but it's our best explanation at this point in time. Simply 'smelling' us doesn't fit and isn't as compatible as this theory."

"What do we need to do to find out if this theory is right?" Paul questioned, "and if it is, how does that help us fight against Harlowe's pets?"

"We can lure them," O'Neill realised. "Set a trap and lure them. The minute the swarm's in position we blow the crap out of them."

"One electrical signal isn't going to attract every bug on the planet, Sir," Janet pointed out. "They're still going to keep multiplying, no matter what we do."

"But we've got time now, Janet," Sam said. "If we only destroy ten or twenty at a time, that's still a swarm less to deal with, and that makes it a little more manageable; especially if you get that anti-venin working."

"It's not that easy, Sam," Doctor Fraiser said simply.

"I know, but this is our best chance. If we wire a building and see what the bugs do when they arrive, we'll have our answer."

"What if you're wrong?" Cassandra asked, speaking for the first time.

"Then we'll just have to find another way to beat them," O'Neill said simply.

"Okay. O'Neill, you take Carter and Maybourne and get something set up. There's surveillance gear in the crates I brought with me; you'll have to find a vantage point where the bugs don't find you," Davis instructed. "Harlowe, you and Fraiser keep going with the vaccine; work in shifts so you both get some rest," he added. "Walter, I need you to get the communications centre going; the equipment is still in the transport. Cassandra, if you and…"

"Bek," Cassandra supplied.

"…Bek don't mind, we could do with a hand unloading the gear I brought."

"Sure," the girls agreed, and seconds later their small base was a flurry of activity, the new personnel and equipment settled in and packed away carefully.

---

**Nuclear Facility**

**4:30am July 30**

Bumping across rutted roads on an uncomfortable seat was something Jack had not looked forward to when Maybourne had busted him from the research clinic, yet here he was again, bouncing around on a seat with a stray spring that was determined to add an extra hole to his ass. His head cracked against the window loudly, streaks of lighting flashing briefly across his vision before the darkness outside the window settled back to its empty self. Even the stars were in hiding tonight.

"Where exactly are we going?" he demanded again, rubbing at his head.

"Walter said there was an old power plant down this road," Carter managed before they bounced over a particularly large rut and he heard the breath knocked from her with a grunt. Very ladylike, Carter.

"Should be about there," Maybourne muttered, jerking on the wheel.

"Maybourne, this is the last time you drive me anywhere," Jack muttered, saving his head from crashing against the glass again by bracing his hands on the dash.

"You said that last time, Jack."

Jack ignored Maybourne, peering ahead instead. "There it is."

The headlights cast a bright beam of light over an old chain link fence, the criss-crossing shadows cast on the ground behind it moving as the SUV rolled to a halt.

They gathered their equipment quickly, lugging it to the fence where Maybourne used his wire cutters to cut away a large portion of the rusted fence.

"You really like doing that, don't you, Maybourne?" Jack commented.

"What? Cutting fences?" Maybourne asked congenially as they pushed their gear through the hole.

"No, illegal breaking and entering."

"I'm a criminal, Jack, what do you expect?" Maybourne demanded, and his teeth glinted brightly in the orange glow of Jack's flashlight as he grinned.

The long grass swished as they moved through it quietly, whispering strangely into the stillness around him. It was too quiet, Jack thought, shivering.

But he had missed this, in a strange way. Missed running up to abandoned buildings in the dark carrying explosives with his blood pumping through his body as his heart thudded in his chest. Missed the way his breathing seemed to echo and his eyes caught every detail as he looked around. Missed the way his teeth worried his lower lip as Carter deftly picked the lock and they stepped into the empty building.

Their footsteps echoed loudly, the building hollow and dusty in the light of their flashlights.

"Carter?" Jack asked, turning to look at her. "You're the expert," he added.

"You and Maybourne can set the explosives, sir," she suggested. "I'll wire this place up."

He nodded, moving silently to Maybourne and helping divide the explosives between them.

They were putting their tools back into their pockets when Carter finished, jamming a large set of pliers into the back pocket of Cassie's jeans, which were far too short for her.

"Set?" he asked.

"Ready to blow, sir," she grinned briefly, her face smudged and dirty as the light fell on it. "I'm going to suggest we move out of here now," she added, "it's almost dawn, and Davis said those bugs would be here by the crack of dawn."

"Let's go then," O'Neill agreed.

They stopped for two seconds while Carter flicked on the small generator she'd brought, and the rattling hum filled the air loudly.

"Let's go!" she called, and they all ran back to the rover together, piling onto the uncomfortable seats and slamming the doors shut.

Carter took the driver's seat this time, grunting again as she pulled the pliers out of her pocket and sat down a second time.

"Uncomfortable?" he asked, taking the pliers from where she'd dumped them on the dash and dropping them at his feet.

"Yes," she said simply, starting the engine and pulling the car back into the relative safety of the surrounding trees at the edge of the large parking lot.

They were unwrapping stale MREs when dawn broke the darkness and sent silver slivers of light across the treetops. And silhouetted against the light sky slowly turning orange was a large, black moving cloud.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, gazing at it.

It writhed and swirled, moving with an inner rhythm as it twisted across the sky, straight toward the power planet several hundred feet ahead of them. And as it got closer and the light got clearer, they could see the bugs glinting with an almost plastic sheen as they swooped angrily around the building.

"That is one flock of bugs," Maybourne breathed, staring in horror.

"You ready to blow it, Carter?" Jack whispered.

The air around them hummed with the sound of the bugs.

"Give it a few more minutes, sir, we want as many as we can get," she said quietly, her eyes focused on the swarm ahead of them.

The swarm hovered over the building, the bugs almost sticking to the sides as they searched it, crashing against windows and shattering them. More bugs arrived, the sky getting darker and darker as they swooped and darted, flitting with a speed that Jack envied.

"Carter, if we don't blow it soon…" Jack commented, swallowing, "if we don't blow it soon, we're gonna have every damn bug here, and I doubt that explosion will be big enough to take them all."

"Five more minutes," Carter said firmly. "Five more, and then we blow it."

The longest five minutes of Jack's life passed almost too quickly; time seeming to stretch until it suddenly snapped and Carter was hissing at him to blow it. His finger brushed the key pad. For a second nothing happened, and then the steady rumbling of the insects grew and grew until Jack realised it wasn't the insects anymore. The building almost seemed to lift off the ground, perfectly in position as it slowly rose higher and higher.

It exploded, the aftershock rocking the SUV back as the red tongues of fire licked the walls of the building, swallowing them whole. Debris rained down everywhere, and the SUV jerked forward as Carter jammed it into gear.

"MOVE, CARTER!" Maybourne yelled.

The car swerved wildly on the road, and Jack gave up trying to sit normally. He clung to the dash and the handgrips above the door, bracing his feet against the floor and jamming his aching knees under the glove box.

"CARTER!" he yelled.

Something crashed against the windscreen. A bang against the roof. He felt the impact as something thudded against the door. An angry whine filled the air.

"CARTER!" he yelled again, wildly staring out of the window and watching several bugs streak past, hurling themselves at his window. "You missed some!"

"SHUT UP!" she screamed at him, jerking on the wheel again as the SUV slid across the road, bugs bouncing off the hood and slapping against the windows with a empty thwack.

"This," he ground out, grunting as they bounced over a rut, "has to be your dumbest idea to date!"

The SUV stalled; jerking to a halt across the road. They bugs were relentless, and there was a slight crack developing against the window next to Jack's head.

"Carter!" Maybourne yelled.

"Sit still!" she ordered. "Don't move, and don't speak."

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack hissed.

"We won't outrun them on this road, sir," she said calmly, hardly moving her mouth. "I've turned the engine off; hopefully they lose interest."

"Hopefully?" Maybourne snapped.

"Shh!" Carter hissed.

Jack closed his eyes and listened to the thudding as the bugs threw themselves against the SUV. No, he hadn't missed this at all.

---

**Nuclear Facility**

**6:46am July 30**

They'd sat outside in silence, watching as the sun crept up over the treetops and slowly cast its light over the land. Shadows had formed in the darkness, lengthening and twisting as the sun rode across the sky. Even this early the sun was hot, burning down on their skin.

But neither Cass nor Bek moved; both continued sitting on the rock they'd chosen, letting their gazes rest on the gravel road the SUV should arrive back on.

"They've been gone too long," Bek said eventually as the sun started to turn Cass' knee a soft shade of red.

"No," Cass shook her head. "No. They'll come back. You'll see."

The silence pulled awkwardly across them, and they scanned the skies anxiously, waiting for a sign that the bugs had arrived and started their decimation.

A grumbling in the distance attracted their attention, and their muscles tensed, waiting. The soft cloud of dust rising up between the trees appeared seconds before a battered and dirty SUV rumbled into view. The engine roared as it raced toward them, buzzing angrily.

Cass' eyes widened; it wasn't the engine buzzing.

"GET INSIDE, BEK!" Cass screamed, staggering down the rock and pulling Bek behind her. "NOW!"

They stumbled into the dark shadows of the shelter entrance, holding their breath. Davis and Samuels appeared behind them.

"Get back," Samuels ordered roughly, pushing them inside.

They slipped into the darkness silently, their eyes straining past the two men in front of them. They heard the sound of the SUV's engine cutting, Jack yelling… Maybourne yelling...

"GET IN HERE! NOW!" Davis yelled.

Bodies fell through the opening, and a burst of orange light lit up the dark entrance.

"Get back!" Samuels yelled again, pressing back on them.

Fire licked the concrete walls as they all staggered back, burning the air and turning it to charcoal until everyone had staggered past the heavy iron doors and someone threw them shut, blotting the light from outside as the last flames raced up the walls before dying.

"What the fuck was that?" Maybourne panted, leaning against a wall and running a hand over his forehead.

"Flame throwers," Davis answered easily. "They can't fly if their wings are burnt. Did it work?"

Sam's face, dark and smeared with dirt, split into a wide grin, revealing even white teeth that contrasted brightly against the grime. "They swarmed around it like bees swarm around honey, Davis."

"They just kept coming," Maybourne added. "We blew up the first lot and before the flames had even stopped the next lot was on our heels."

"It's a start," Davis said grimly. "Fraiser and Harlowe are still working on the vaccine, and we still have to find a course of action against the Goa'uld."

When the adults moved away into the meeting room, Cassandra and Bek were left alone at the entrance. The blackened door looked dark and solid, but Cassandra could hear the soft thudding of the alien bodies hitting relentlessly against the door. She rested her hand on the warm surface; it shuddered lightly beneath her touch.

---


	8. Chapter 8

_I am SO SORRY for the delay in posting the remainder of this fic. It's been sitting on my HD for months, but I completely forgot I had to post it! Thanks for the reminders and reviews; I'll do my best to get it all up in the next few days!!_

_Shaz_

---**  
PART EIGHT**  
---

**Nuclear Facility  
7:29am, July 30**

The room that had seemed so cold and empty to her just over twenty four hours ago was suddenly full of people and personalities. Janet gazed around the room once again, desperately trying to keep her eyes open as the soft conversation flowed around her, rising and falling as opinions were aired and options discussed.

"You should get some rest," Cassie said softly, appearing at her side and looking down at her with concern.

"I did," Janet smiled, but the yawn that escaped caused Cassie to raise her eyebrows accusingly. "I'll take another nap later, Cass," she promised.

"We have a problem!" Walter Davis announced loudly, stepping into the centre of the room. Conversation ceased abruptly as everyone turned to face him, waiting for him to continue. "Goa'uld ships are in the atmosphere, and the satellite images I'm pulling off shows them over the US mainly, and several around Europe."

"Already?" Paul Davis demanded, reaching for the sheets of paper Walter still clutched in his hands. "Our intel said they wouldn't arrive for at least another week."

"Strike while the iron's hot," O'Neill murmured. "Makes more sense to arrive now, while everyone here has their head up their ass in panic."

"We're not here to discuss the merits of the Goa'uld tactics, Colonel!" Samuels spat.

"Either way, we don't have a choice as to what we do next," Davis sighed, shuffling through the sheets. "We have to get the SGC back."

"Do we still stand a chance?" Sam asked.

"If we act now, yes."

"So what's the plan?" O'Neill asked.

"We need to get the SGC and get control of the Stargate. If we can send someone through to an Asgard protected planet-"

"I thought you said the Asgard had nothing to do with us anymore," O'Neill accused.

"They don't," Davis agreed. "But they always liked you."

Janet's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. You want Colonel O'Neill to go in there?"

"Yes," Samuels said bluntly.

"Samuels, I don't know if you noticed this, but Colonel O'Neill is in no condition to go playing hero!" Janet said hotly.

"What did he do this morning then?" Samuels asked scathingly.

Janet glared at the men now staring at her. "I let him join that mission against my better judgment."

"We don't have a choice, Janet," Sam said softly.

Janet stared at her. "Of course we do."

"What? Send someone else? Someone the Asgard don't like? Then what? They don't help us? Samuels' is right, Janet. We need him to do this."

"I don't see the Asgard dropping everything to come running to our assistance," O'Neill said calmly, "so this plan could be academic anyway. Added to that, we have no way of getting to the SGC at this point in time. At least, not until we get some protection against the bugs. It won't do us any good to go and get ourselves stung before we even reach the front door. We need another alternative."

The silence around the room was uncomfortable, and Janet stifled the urge to yawn again, despite the tense situation. "Do we know which Goa'uld is orchestrating this invasion?" Janet asked.

"No," Paul Davis sighed. "No idea."

"The Jaffa aren't going to be entirely immune to the bugs," Sam said thoughtfully. "Chances are if they get stung their bodies will still have to fight the virus."

"So when they land will be the right time for us to launch our counter-attack," Samuels agreed. "Our problem lies in having no counter-attack. All our resources are at this moment engaged with the threat of the bugs."

"Then I suggest you find a counter-attack," O'Neill said curtly, rising to his feet.

"Where are you going?" Samuels demanded.

"I've been awake for longer than I like, Samuels, and at my age, I need my beauty sleep. Call me when you've got something."

No one commented as he exited the room.

"He's right," Janet said. "I think everyone should get some rest and think about it. Like he said; we're not leaving here until we find a way to safeguard against the bugs."

Davis nodded. "We better figure it out soon," he added softly.

---**  
Nuclear Facility  
11:59am, July 30**

Sam looked around the impromptu laboratory with critical eyes, observing small changes in both style and technology that had taken place during the last three years. It had been years since she'd set foot in a laboratory, much less tinkered with the various pieces of equipment. Sighing, she stopped her musings and located Janet – the reason she'd come to the lab in the first place.

"You busy?" she asked.

"Not with anything that can't wait, no," Janet answered. "I'm only filing results," she added, "go ahead."

"I've been thinking about the way the bugs are attracted to the electrical fields."

"Some sort of sensory system," Janet mused. "Possibly like a shark."

Sam nodded. "That's what I thought; they can detect the impulses on a level that we can't with their sensory system. What if we can use that against them, the way we can with sharks?"

"I'm not sure I understand how you propose to do that, Sam."

"Overload," Sam said simply. "It works exactly the same on us. Heat, for example. We can sense heat. It's warm and we enjoy it. Too much heat and it burns us."

"Stun them with a large electrical pulse?" Janet asked doubtfully. "Sam, that's going to hurt us as much as it hurts the bugs."

"Not if we use a field it won't," Sam said.

"Will that work?"

"I don't know," Sam said, shrugging. "It's only a theory, but if we can overload their senses with an energy field of some sort, they won't be able to detect us, or they might avoid us if we're the ones where the field is coming from."

"It's definitely worth looking into," Janet agreed slowly. "Have you thought about how you're going to create the field?"

Sam smiled. "You're talking to an astrophysicist, Janet. This is the sort of thing I did in preschool."

---**  
Nuclear Facility  
3;10pm**

"But why does it work?" Dr. Harlowe demanded, his voice sounding empty as it echoed down the concrete hallway.

"I don't know the exact mechanisms of how or why it works," Sam responded, "but it does. You saw it yourself, Timothy."

"It doesn't make any sense, Sam. The EMP shouldn't affect them – there's no biological or electrical reason for it to work."

Walter stepped into the room, his hands sweaty as he gripped several sheets of paper.

"These bugs are alien, Timothy," Dr. Fraiser contributed, "how much do we really understand about their physiology? Not much. The EMP works – and keeps working. It solves the problem of the bugs. Sam and I both think if the pulse is strong enough it could kill them too. At the very least, it stuns them for at least half an hour or so."

"Excuse me, sir," Walter said.

"Just a minute, Walter. It's not an ideal solution, Janet," Colonel O'Neill said. "The EMP effectively wipes out everything we need to wage this war – communications, transport, intel… almost everything."

"But it gives us a chance to fight!" Sam said sharply. "It doesn't eliminate everything, we'll still have our firearms."

"I'm sorry, sir, but this is urgent," Walter said loudly. He held the sheets out to O'Neill. "The Goa'uld are moving. Reports indicate they've landed a ship on Cheyenne, and attacks are underway in several of the capitals."

"Fuck," O'Neill snapped, slamming his fists on the table. "What about the Asgard Treaty?"

"We all know that's been a bluff for years," Paul Davis said quietly. "The Goa'uld couldn't be fooled forever."

"With the Jaffa attacking and a ship over Cheyenne, we don't stand a chance of retaking the Stargate," Samuels predicted. "It was going to be enough of a challenge getting in there with the infiltration, but now? They've all but claimed this planet."

"So why bother?" Sam asked sharply. "Why bother with any of this in the first place, Samuels, if it's so impossible to win?"

"We've been working on the problem for months now, Major," Paul Davis intervened. "Ever since we learned of the infiltration, and the possibility of the Goa'uld releasing the virus."

"I still don't understand why you kept me alive," the woman said quietly. "Why go to the lengths you did to keep me alive and hidden?"

Walter watched as Paul Davis looked across at Samuels before answering. "Even if you had planted the bomb, Major, to execute someone of your intellect would have been a waste of resources. What I understand from Samuels is that the plan was to offer you freedom of a sort, in return for your assistance on several projects once you had time to experience… life in prison, so to speak. When we realised there was an infiltration, Samuels alerted me to your status. Like we've said before, Major, your experience with the Goa'uld is invaluable."

"I wouldn't have co-operated," Sam said quietly.

"I am aware of that, Major Carter," Paul Davis said equally quietly, "but I'm grateful to the conspirators for keeping you alive. When I learnt of your apparent execution I was appalled that not only would the government accuse you of the act of terrorism, but that they would execute you."

"And where was all this support when I was on trial, behind bars and being led to the gas chamber?" she demanded bitterly.

"Regardless of your situation, Major Carter, we have a bigger problem than the personal wrongs you experienced," Samuels interrupted. "The Goa'uld are taking over this planet and we have a plague or alien bugs about to wipe us out if the Goa'uld can't stop what they unleashed. I suggest we focus on that, and assign blame for your cuff scars afterwards."

"Another word, Samuels," O'Neill whispered, "and I will feed you to the bugs myself."

"Who's running this operation, Colonel?" Samuels demanded.

"I am," O'Neill said simply. "Take a look around, Samuels, at the people you recruited. They're my people. They follow my orders, and they stand behind me."

Samuels opened his mouth to protest, but Davis beat him to it. "With all due respect, Colonel, you aren't completely up to date on everything that's happened in the last three years," he said.

"Like hell I'm not," O'Neill snapped. "I know more about the Goa'uld on this planet than you do. I know more about the Goa'uld than you. That's why you brought us here, Davis, because we know how to fight them. Now either you let us do it the way we know works, or you find yourself another team."

The threat hung in the air.

"And what will you do if I take up your offer, Colonel?" Davis asked quietly.

"We'll leave," O'Neill said simply. "If anyone's going to figure out a way to either stop them or get off this planet if we can't stop them, it's Carter, and Carter's with me."

"Is she?" Samuels asked. "Three years is a long time, Colonel, and prison is a hard place. Is she still the same woman who's going to follow you blindly, or have times changed?"

"If anything, Samuels, I followed her blindly," O'Neill said mildly. "It's your choice. Our way or we go."

Walter almost held his gaze as his eyes skimmed across the room, taking in the people present. Dr. Fraiser, Sam, O'Neill, Maybourne, Dr. Harlowe, Paul Davis and Samuels all waiting.

"Okay," Davis said quietly. "We do it your way."

"Good," O'Neill said, nodding.

"Sir?" Walter asked hesitantly. "What exactly is your way?"

O'Neill blinked. "Carter?"

---


	9. Chapter 9

---

**PART NINE**

---

**Nuclear Facility  
5:23pm**

"Any ideas yet?"

"Give her a break, Maybourne, she hasn't had to save the world for the last three years – she needs time to get back into it," Jack muttered, spinning a pencil between his fingers.

Maybourne sighed and dropped onto the chair opposite Jack. "Any inklings?"

"All we've got so far is an EMP, but then you already know that one. Fraiser's pushing for it, but we don't really know how effective it will be."

"So what do we do?"

"Did you know the bugs were only released on US soil?" Jack asked.

Maybourne nodded. "But they'll spread across the islands and oceans within a few weeks at most."

"Fraiser doesn't think they'll get that far, and I'm inclined to agree with her."

"You are?" Maybourne questioned. "Why?"

"We're the example, Maybourne," Jack said quietly. "Once they've destroyed us, the Goa'uld will stop the bugs before they've spread too far. But the threat will always be there, and the rest of the world will be well aware of it. 

"And?"

"Relatively easy way to win a war, don't you think?"

Maybourne was quiet, considering.

"Fraiser wants us to set off as many EMPs as possible. Make a viable dent in the bugs. Problem is, Maybourne, we don't know who's compromised and who's not, so who do we tell about our brilliant plan of resistance?"

Maybourne stared at Jack. "Don't tell me you're giving up, Jack. Jack O'Neill doesn't know how to give up."

Jack remained silent, the pencil still spinning between his fingers.

"The longer we sit here watching you spin that pencil, the more people die."

"You think I don't know that?" Jack sighed again, and the pencil ceased its spinning. "I don't see any other options, Maybourne. The Goa'uld are here. They've got the Stargate. We've got the bugs from hell attacking with no realistic way of stopping them. You tell me what to do, Maybourne, and I'll do it."

"You are giving up," Maybourne realised.

"Harlowe and Davis both think detonating and EMP would do more harm than good," Jack said at length. "It would wipe out hospital systems and communications for miles – and it wouldn't get rid of the bugs. Keep them away, maybe, but not stop them indefinitely."

"They're destroying everything, Jack."

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, Maybourne. I don't have any bright ideas, and neither does Carter. How about you?"

"Fresh out."

"I'm not usually Mr. Negativity, Maybourne, but the only way I see clear of this mess is to get access to the gate, like Davis suggested, and beg for help."

Maybourne sighed. "There's no way we'll get access to that mountain, Jack."

"No," Jack agreed, "pity Carter can't just whip another gate together."

Maybourne gaped. "It couldn't be that easy again. Could it?"

Jack frowned. "What?"

"Another Stargate."

---

**Nuclear Facility  
6:22pm**

"After their disastrous attempts at running their own off-world missions, the Russian government agreed to put their Stargate program on hold, and work co-operatively with the American government at the SGC," Paul Davis said, passing out several sheets.

"When their DHD was destroyed several years ago while on loan to the SGC, it finalised the ending of the Russian Stargate Program – the time it takes to get computer systems for a Stargate online and offline made it virtually impossible for them to run the program without our knowledge."

"We all know about this already, Davis," Jack snapped.

"I don't, Jack," Cassandra inserted.

Jack shrugged, and Davis continued. "According to Dr. Svetlana Markhov, who Major Carter managed to get hold of, the Stargate is still kept in the same facility – unused. She doesn't know if her government has been compromised – it is highly likely, though – but at this stage there has been no indications the Goa'uld are going to attempt to take the second Stargate at this point in time. The fact that the Russian government hasn't used the Stargate to launch a counter-attack or at least evacuate their people does indicate they are compromised."

"Our biggest problem is manpower," Jack cut in. "Carter and I need to get to Russia where the second gate is. Carter can get the gate going, with Markhov, and hopefully we can find Thor and convince him to help us."

"How are you planning to get to Russia, Jack?" Maybourne asked.

"You ever flown in a death glider, Maybourne?"

"Why risk stealing a death glider? Why not raid an airfield instead? Wouldn't it be safer?" Janet asked.

"The Goa'uld technology operates on crystals, Janet," Sam explained. "We're going to be out in the open, whether we're attempting to get an aircraft or a death glider, so will have to consider that we might need to set off an EMP if the swarms arrive in the middle of it. Also, death gliders are faster, and less likely to attract attention flying around than an earth-built craft. And if need be, they can leave the atmosphere too."

Cassandra nodded to herself – it made sense.

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked.

Jack looked across at her mother almost guiltily before he answered. "Anything you can do, Cass."

---  
**5:04am**

The SUV rolled to a gentle stop beside the large, shadowed building. There were several minutes of silence in the vehicle, tension saying all that was needed to be said. Sam scrubbed her fingers nervously through her downy hair, accidentally knocking Cassie with her elbow.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Not like there's much room," Cass pointed out with a trace of humour in her voice.

No, Sam mused, with ten people somehow crammed into the vehicle, there definitely wasn't a lot of room.

"This is it, people," the Colonel said, his voice a low rumble through the vehicle. "Davis, you and your man ready?"

"Yes, sir," Paul Davis said, and Sam imagined he would have saluted had there been the room and it was light enough for them to see him.

"Good. You have the rendezvous?"

"Yes, Colonel. Good luck, sir."

"Good luck, Paul," O'Neil murmured. "Carter, are you and Samuels good to go?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we go," he said.

Silently, and almost exactly synchronised, the doors of the SUV opened and the five of them clambered out – Paul, a Marine who Sam now knew was called Tom, Samuels, herself, and the Colonel.

"We'll see you at the rendezvous, Colonel," Paul murmured. "Good luck."

The grass whispering under their boots was the only sound made as Paul and Tom disappeared into the darkness.

"Carter," O'Neill whispered, his hand finding hers in the still air. "I… Good luck, Major."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered back, squeezing his fingers. "I'll see you at the rendezvous too, sir."

"We'll be waiting," he said, letting go. "Good luck to you too, Samuels."

Sam reached back into the SUV and pulled out the pack she'd been seated on for the trip from the shelter, holding it close to her chest. "First light, sir," she whispered, watching as he climbed back into the SUV and smoothly started the engine.

"You ready?" Samuels asked, his voice almost gentle as it came out of the darkness.

"As I'll ever be."

Inside the hanger, as Davis had promised, was a small aircraft, its white paintwork glinting under the narrow beam of light from Samuel's flashlight. 

"Nice," Sam murmured, letting her eyes follow the smooth lines of the Cessna. "Haven't played with one of these for a while."

"You sure you remember how?"

"Just like riding a bicycle. Open the hanger doors wider, Samuels, I want to check the fuel lines. It's not long now until sunrise."

---  
**5:45am**

The P-90 was heavy in Walter's hands. He shifted it uncomfortably against his legs, wriggling his fingers and trying to dislodge the pins and needles from his limbs.

"Nervous?" Maybourne asked.

Walter swallowed and shrugged. "Haven't been on the frontlines for a long, long time."

"But you work at the SGC," Cassandra whispered.

"As a technician," Walter pointed out.

"Okay, break it up, people," O'Neill murmured. "Maybourne, you take Cassandra and Walter. Position them on the left flank, and get into position. The sun'll come up soon, and we don't want those bugs anywhere near us. Cass, are you right with the detonator?"

"Yes, Jack," Cassandra said firmly.

"Great. Bek, you and Andrews are with me on the right flank. Once you're in position, not a sound until Carter and Samuels arrive, okay?"

Murmurs of understanding sounded through the group, and O'Neill nodded. "Good luck, people. Let's go."

By the time Maybourne was satisfied with Bek and Walter's positions, the night sky had faded to a soft grey, and Walter could see the detail of his boots. Crouching against his tree, his firearm resting on his knees, Walter bit his lips and prayed as he watched morning come.

---  
**6:21am**

"Okay," Sam murmured, wrapping her fingers around the controls, "let's get this bird in the air, Samuels."

"It's your call, Carter," Samuels returned.

The small plane jumped to life, and Sam idled it neatly out of the hanger, the thick purr of the Cessna rumbling through her with a familiarity that surprised her. As the sun appeared over the mountaintops, the Cessna lifted easily into the air, the stillness of the morning giving them an extraordinarily smooth ride.

"Nice," Samuels said appreciatively, and Sam was gratified to note that his hold on the supports relaxed somewhat.

From the air, the view was spectacular, Sam thought, and then frowned. Spectacular, but strangely empty. "Nothing's moving down there," she observed.

"Everyone's fled the bugs, Carter," Samuels explained.

"There's not much animal movement either," Sam commented.

"It's 6:38, Carter," Samuels said. "You ready?"

"Time to get this show on the road."

Sam turned the plane to the North, heading them straight toward the large mountain now crowned by an alien ship, an image she had hoped she'd never see.

"Holy shit," Samuels breathed as they moved closer, "that thing is huge."

"Oh yeah," Sam agreed. "Can you see any small ships?"

"There," Samuels said after several seconds, "to the left."

"They'll have gliders guarding that," Sam said confidently. "Here we go."

"How fast exactly are the gliders?" Samuels questioned worriedly.

"A lot faster than we are."

"Then we better get moving, because there are at least three coming to us."

"Three? Shit," Sam grunted. "That's more than we hoped for."

"Well, they're coming our way, Carter, let's get out of here."

Sam banked the plane back around to the south, pressing it as fast as she dared. The plane shuddered and whined angrily at the demand. "How far away are they?" she demanded.

"They're gaining, quickly," Samuels yelled. "Can't this thing go any faster?"

"I'm doing the best I can, Samuels!" Sam snapped. "How many are there?"

"Two, one of them fell back."

"Good," Sam grunted. "Are they within range?"

"How close is in range?"

"Samuels, you're fucking useless!" Sam yelled, jerking on the sticks and dropping them into a nosedive. A bolt of energy flew over head, disappearing into a dark cloud. She rolled plane to the left and then pulled up sharply, hoping the clumsy movements of the plane could help them evade the gliders for just a little longer.

"DROP CARTER, DROP. I REPEAT, DROP. THEY'RE TOO FUCKING CLOSE, SAM, DROP!" O'Neill's voice sputtered on the radio.

"Drop!" Samuels screamed. "He said to drop!"

"We're too far away!" Sam yelled. The plane shuddered and jerked, rocking as an explosion tore through the left motor.

"We've been hit!" Samuels yelled.

"I KNOW!" Sam yelled. "Just – oh, crap," she breathed, looking ahead. The dark cloud they were approaching was moving; the swarms had arrived.

---  
**6:57am**

The morning had dawned still and quiet, and Cassandra had peered up at the sky visible between the branches of the tree she was hiding against. Several metres away from her, its casing shining artificially in the dappled sunlight, the launch was nestled in a clearing. Her sweaty fingers clutched at the detonator, the small remote feeling horribly slippery in her clumsy hands.

The stillness of the air was shattered by a distant droning, and she peered up at the blue sky searching for a sign of the small plane Sam was flying. Instead, she saw a dark cloud writhing and twisting and buzzing in the sky. Seconds later the small aircraft flew into view, smoking horrifically from a broken and damaged wing. It flew straight at the swarm, spinning drunkenly.

"CASS! Hit the EMP, NOW!" Jack screamed on the radio. Her fingers fumbled with the detonator. "CASS!"

"Not yet, Cass!" Sam's voice disagreed over the radio. "Wait!"

She watched the plane lurch, waiting, waiting, waiting until two small rag dolls fell from the plane.

"CASSANDRA! NOW!" Jack ordered across the radio.

The swarm raged and arrowed toward the falling bodies as their parachutes opened into bright white sails, turning a silent fall into a graceful descent.

There was a buzzing sound, and Cassandra stared up at the single bug hovering above her.

Her finger touched the detonator, but the bug was faster and her body was on fire as the world turned dark and the buzzing faded.

---


	10. Chapter 10

---

**PART TEN**

---

**7:04am**

The bugs rained down around them, vicious missiles aimed at no-one but trying to hit everyone. There was a thundering roar as the Cessna exploded somewhere in the distance, and a thick plume of smoke bruised the cornflower blue sky.

"CARTER!" Jack screamed, fighting through the undergrowth toward the burning aircraft. "Damn it, Carter, where the hell are you?"

"O'NEILL!" 

"CARTER?"

"Here!"

It was Samuels, his chute wrapped around a tree and his legs dangling centimetres from the ground. "Get me down, sir!"

"Where's Carter?"

"West," Samuels grunted, wriggling in his harness.

A crashing behind Jack alerted him to Andrews' presence. "Cut him down, Andrews, and head west, toward the plane. We'll rendezvous there."

"I saw the gliders land, sir. There are four Jaffa on foot, headed this way."

"Good – are Maybourne and Walter securing the gliders?"

"I don't know," Andrews confessed.

Jack swore loudly, gripped his P-90 tightly and continued west, searching for her.

Cassandra's friend, Bek, had beaten him though. She was leaning over Carter, checking her pulse when he stumbled across them several minutes later. His blood turned cold – Carter wasn't moving.

"She's breathing," Bek announced, "but she's bleeding."

He checked her pulse anyway – it fluttered firmly beneath his fingers – and then checked her head wound. "Carter?" he said quietly, tapping her cheek gently. "Come on, Sam, open your eyes."

Nothing.

"Damn it, Carter, I knew I should have flown that plane. You always know better though," he grunted, running his hands across her ribs and limbs, checking for injuries. "What do you know about first aid?" he demanded, looking across at Bek.

"I've done a few courses," she said, "but I've never used it."

"Stay with her," Jack ordered. "Don't move her, and if she wakes up, don't let her move either."

"What about the J… bad guys?" she demanded worriedly.

"You've got a gun," Jack snapped, "use if they turn up. But they won't."

He'd no sooner spoken, than the sound of a staff weapon powering up echoed in his ears. "Kree!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he hissed, turning around slowly. "Kree yourself, asshole."

The Jaffa held the staff weapon trained on him, when a single gunshot sounded loudly. The Jaffa's legs buckled and he collapsed to the ground, revealing Andrews holding his P-90. "Samuels is on his way, sir, but he's hurt his leg pretty bad."

"Carter's in bad shape too," O'Neill muttered. "Thanks, by the way."

"No problem, sir."

"One down, three to go. Samuels, there you are. Stay with Carter and the girl. Andrews and I are going to secure those gliders."

An explosion cracked in the distance.

"Green smoke," Andrews called, "we're clear, sir. Maybourne and Walter must have gotten the other three."

O'Neill grinned with relief. "Yes," he cheered quietly. "Okay, Samuels, stay here. Wait until Davis turns up with the transport, and make sure Carter and the girls get back okay. Shit, where's Cassandra?"

"With Maybourne, probably," Bek said. "You grouped him with her."

"Wait," Samuels called as Jack turned to leave.

"What?"

"Who are you taking to Russia? You needed Carter for the gate electronics."

"I'll still take Walter, like we planned."

"What sort of electronics?" Bek asked. "I can do systems and programming."

Jack stared at her. "Do you have any idea about the technology?" he demanded.

"No," she admitted, "but I can help. I was helping Walter back at the shelter, and with Sam not going… I can take her place," she offered. "Please. I want to do this."

Jack hesitated. "Okay. You can fly with me, Walter can go with Maybourne in the second glider."

Samuels nodded. "Good luck, Colonel."

"Get my people home, Samuels," Jack ordered, looking at Carter still lying on the ground. "Come on, kid, let's go."

---  
**8:19am**

There was still a thin plume of smoke bleeding into the sky from the trees, and Paul Davis used it as his marker. The horses were uneasy, dancing sideways and fighting at the bit as he tried to guide them toward the area of destruction he was headed toward. Not much of a horseman, Paul didn't know what he would have done if Tom hadn't been with him.

"Not much further now, sir," Tom murmured, attempting to ease his own mount as it picked its way between the fallen bodies of the bugs that had tumbled out of the sky over an hour earlier.

"Thank god for that," Paul muttered.

The words had barely left his mouth when they found the people they were searching for. It took Paul a second to realise that Samantha Carter was lying unresponsive on the ground, and another two seconds to realise the two teenagers were both missing from the group he was supposed to take home.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"The one girl, Bek, went with Colonel O'Neill," Samuels explained, stepping forward. "We don't know where Cassandra Fraiser is."

"Shit," Paul muttered. "Fraiser is going to kill us."

"She launched the EMP, sir," Andrews said. "I saw where it was launched from – maybe she's still waiting there."

"What direction?" Paul demanded.

"East of here, sir."

"How's Major Carter doing?"

"She hasn't woken up since she hit the ground," Andrews said. "We're not sure about the extent of her injuries, but her pulse is steady."

"Can you get her up on the horse with Tom?" Paul asked.

Samuel's face pulled into a grimace. "Oh god," he sighed, "I hate horses."

"I hate bugs more," Tom said cheerfully. "We've got two spares," he added.

"Samuels can take one, and Andrews can have the other. You take Carter with you, Tom, and I'll go find Cassandra."

"You want us to go now, sir?" Tom asked, frowning with disapproval.

"Yes. There's no knowing how long it will take before the next swarm comes, and as far as I'm aware we don't have another big EMP, only the smaller ones Carter rigged for us. We need to get back to that shelter ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

"And take care of Carter, otherwise the Goa'uld and the bugs will be the last thing on your mind when O'Neill gets back," Paul warned.

"Yes, sir!"

Leaving his men to get Carter onto the horse and start back to the shelter, Paul nudged his horse to the east and set off looking for Cassandra. The horse, irritated at leaving her friends, swished her tail irritably and pranced to the side, almost unseating Paul. He managed to hold on though and regain his balance, kicking his heels in annoyance. Snorting in resignation, the mare shook her head and let him guide her where he wanted her to go.

It took him twenty minutes to find Cassandra Fraiser, and when he did find her he felt something akin to grief stab at him. She was lying in the shade of a large tree, a pale hand clutched around the remote and an oozing wound on her calf, the flesh red and angry and accusing.

"Oh, god," he whispered, biting his lip.

---  
**Russia**

His hands were sweating profusely as they clutched at the steering of the death glider, and Maybourne hoped to God he didn't crash the thing.

"How're you doing, Maybourne?" O'Neill asked through the Goa'uld communications device attached to his temple.

"Okay," Maybourne lied, his fingers tightening involuntarily around the controls.

"Take it easy. Have a look around," Jack said breezily.

Easy for him to say, Maybourne scowled, but it wasn't his first time flying a death glider, let alone taking a ride in one.

"We're almost there," Jack added, almost gently. "Just do what I tell you, Maybourne, and you'll be fine."

Maybourne refused to listen to the strangled gulp emitted by Walter behind him.

Five tense minutes later, his glider touched down with minimal bumping, and he climbed out of it hastily, followed closely by Walter.

"That was so cool!" Bek was enthusing, grinning, "I didn't know it was possible to overcome the-"

"Ah!" Jack snapped, holding his hand up. "I don't do technical. Now, is everyone good to go?" he asked as he snapped his P-90 into place.

They left the gliders where they'd landed them and carefully picked their way across the open field to the large stone warehouse which looked strikingly out of place.

"It isn't any prettier in the summertime," Jack muttered, lifting a set of binoculars to his eyes. "It looks clear."

"Should we move in?" Maybourne asked.

"Markhov said the building was clear," Jack pointed out. "We need to make contact."

"I'll go," Maybourne said. "I know the building better than you do."

"Check in if it hits the fan," Jack said brusquely. "I'll set down some surprises in case we get a problem."

"Be good," Maybourne muttered, and then stood up. "Blue if you're good to go, Jack."

"Got ya, Harry," Jack called after him in a low voice.

The area was quiet, Maybourne thought, but then this has always been a quiet place. Especially in the middle of winter with ice and snow and nothing moving for miles. He suppressed a slight shiver and flattened his body against the warehouse wall in relief, looking around him quickly. Nothing moved, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything out there.

He ran alongside the wall until he found the door, and listened intently for sounds from inside. Again, nothing. The door opened easily when he tried it, and he peered into the darkness before stepping inside and again flattening his body against the wall.

"Seems clear, Jack," he whispered, turning on his flashlight. "I'm going to look for Markhov."

"We'll move in to the entrance," Jack replied.

His footsteps echoed loudly through the empty room as he climbed the metal stairs, and the railings were cold and dusty when he brushed against them. There hadn't been anyone here for a long, long time, Maybourne mused.

There was a click, and Maybourne froze, holding his breath.

"Who are you?" a roughly accented voice asked.

"Dr. Markhov?" he responded.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded again.

"Harry Maybourne. I'm looking for Dr. Svetlana Markhov."

"Maybourne," the voice said. "I should have recognised you."

Markhov stepped out from behind the large pipe which had hidden her in its shadows, but she didn't lower her gun. "Svetlana," Maybourne smiled, "lovely to see you again."

"Where are Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter?"

"Carter's back in the US," Maybourne admitted, "she got hurt while we secured our transport. Jack's waiting for all-clear from me before he comes in."

He saw Svetlana frowning with doubt at his words. "That seems unlike Colonel O'Neill," she said cautiously.

"It does," Maybourne agreed. "But Jack's… Jack's not really up to running around playing hero at the moment, if you know what I mean."

"No, I do not know what you mean," Svetlana said bluntly.

"Are you alone here?" Maybourne asked.

The hand on the gun still at him tightened reflexively, and he suddenly realised just how on edge the woman was. "I'll get Jack, okay?" Maybourne cautioned. "Jack, do you read?"

"Loud and clear, Maybourne."

"I've found Dr. Markhov. She wants to see you. We're in the blue."

"We'll be there in two minutes. Oh, crap."

"What is it?" Maybourne demanded.

"We've got company, Maybourne."

"Shit."

---**  
Nuclear Facility**

It was barely midday, but it felt like years had passed. Janet sat outside on a rock overlooking the road, alert for any indications of not only the bugs, but of the people who had left before sunrise. There was no sign of either bugs or people however, and she felt her attention wandering. She would have liked to be working on the vaccine, but she was out of her depth and with Timothy taking a well earned break, there was nothing she could do.

Behind her, the large door to the underground facility was open a crack, ready for her to run behind and slam shut should the bugs make an appearance. Twisting on her seat, Janet let her eyes track over the empty buildings making the rest of the complex; tracing concrete pillars and gaping holes which had once been windows.

It was only then that she realised something. This was where Sam had brought Cassandra to die years ago, when they're first found her. This cold, empty place of concrete walls and thick doors. Shivering despite the warm sunlight, Janet wrapped her arms around her middle and stood up, ready to head back and see if there was anything she could continue with without the need of Timothy's supervision.

She'd made it back to the door when she heard noises in the distance. Cautiously pulling the door closed and leaving herself a small crack to peer through, she watched as a group on horseback appeared in her line of sight. A flicker of relief rippled through her, and she pushed the door open to greet them.

"Dr. Fraiser!" Samuels called, catching sight of her. "We need your help."

She saw Sam a second later, unconscious in his arms.

"Oh God," she whispered. "What happened?"

"She had a bad landing. There were too many trees; she's got a head injury," one of the men Paul Davis had arrived with called out. Andrews, Janet thought, his name was Andrews. "I think she has a few broken ribs too, but I can't find any sign of anything else."

"You have medical training?" she asked, running out to help Andrews as he jumped down from his horse and started getting Sam down off another horse.

"Field," he grunted, taking her friend's dead weight in his arms "Shit, she doesn't look this heavy," he muttered, carrying Sam toward the entrance.

"What do we do with the horses?" Tom asked, still seating on his horse.

"Bring them in," Janet said. "They can't stay out here, we might need them."

She caught sight of Samuels grimacing in distaste, and forced herself to hide a smile of amusement. The smile died when she realised neither Cassandra nor Bek were with the group. "Where's Cassandra?" she demanded.

The sudden quiet in the small group turned her insides cold with fear.

"Samuels?"

"We're not sure. Paul Davis went to get her, but we haven't seen him since he left to get her."

"Fuck," Janet hissed.

"He'll find her, Dr. Fraiser," Tom said gently. "He likes Cassandra; I don't think he'd have let anything happen to her." Janet swallowed. "Go help Major Carter," he said gently.

She nodded, and disappeared inside the building, following Andrews as he carried Sam to their makeshift infirmary.

---


	11. Chapter 11

---****

PART ELEVEN

---**  
Russia**

It felt like his lungs were splintering in his chest with each breath he took. He fought for each breath, drawing it in gingerly and raggedly, trying to get enough oxygen into his body to meet its demands.

"Jack, you okay?" Maybourne asked, his voice low.

"Fine," Jack managed, knowing his lie fell flat but grateful neither Maybourne nor anyone else called him on it. He coughed, and felt his breathing settle again. "God," he muttered, wiping at his sweaty forehead and straightening himself up. "Shit, I am too old for this crap. This is the last time," he promised no one in particular. "Dr. Markhov, nice to see you again," he said, holding his hand out to shake hers.

"The feeling is mutual, Colonel O'Neill," Markhov said, smiling. "I was most upset when I heard of your apparent death; to find you are still alive is a good turn of events."

"As lovely as this reacquainting is," Maybourne cut in sharply, "we don't have much time left."

"Does this facility have an automated destruction built in?" Jack questioned Markhov, motioning that she lead the way to the control room.

"This is a Russian facility, Colonel," she responded dryly, her lips curling with bemusement. "Surely you do not have to question our methods."

O'Neill met her eye with a smile of shared understanding, and nodded. "You can activate it?"

"No," she admitted. "However, I do believe I can over-write the programming with Sergeant Davis' help and a bit of time."

"I don't know if time is something we have," Maybourne countered.

"We can hold them for a time," Jack mused, "but not long. How long do you need?"

"Twenty minutes?" Markhov theorised. "We need to get in the backdoor to do it. I've already connected the gate – we only need to activate it and that takes only a few minutes."

"Shit," Jack hissed. "We won't have that much time. I'm guessing it's going to take all of ten minutes before this place is swarming with Jaffa."

"How many entrances to the control room and gate room are there?" Davis asked.

"Three in total," Markhov replied. "Two into the gateroom, and one into to the control room."

"Maybourne and I can hold the gateroom, and Walter will have to hold the control room once the Jaffa get through the building," Jack said. "Bek, can you help Dr. Markhov with the computers?"

"I should be able to," Bek said, her voice sounding quiet and unsteady.

"Bek, listen to me, I have to know if you can do this or not."

She licked her lips, her eyes wide with fear. "I can," she whispered.

Jack nodded. "Good. Maybourne, we'll go and block the doors. Hold them up a bit with C4. Walter, you take Markhov and Bek and get started on the countdown. Watch their sixes. Get a rope and break the control room window down onto the gate – you can get into the gateroom that way if you can't get the autodestruct set in time and the Jaffa are there. Get the wormhole to Cimmeria up as soon as possible – even if you can't get the autodestruct programmed we can still get out."

"Okay," Davis agreed. "Sir?"

"Walter?"

"Good luck."

Jack smiled briefly. "You too. All of you."

Nodding to Maybourne, they turned around and jogged back to the entrance to the facility.

The hollow clanking of the Jaffa's armour echoed loudly through the empty warehouse. Jack swore internally, dropping to his knees and peering cautiously around a corner.

The Jaffa were gathering at the entrance of the warehouse, staff weapons raised and ready for resistance. Jack motioned 'fall back' and both he and Maybourne dropped back to the first doorway between them and the Jaffa. Without needing to communicate, they pushed the large iron door shut and bolted it.

"That should keep them for a few," Maybourne said hopefully. "I'll go west and blow the stairs to the landings if you take the east side and blow a few doors to throw them off track."

Not commenting about the way Maybourne appeared to be taking control, Jack followed his orders and several minutes later found himself in the gateroom, staring at the rippling blue of the wormhole that would take them to Cimmeria.

"How's it going?" he called out.

"Getting there," Walter answered. "It's going faster with three of us."

"Keep working on it!" Jack yelled, spinning as Maybourne skidded into the gateroom. The door slid shut behind him. "Blow it?" Jack questioned.

"Blow it," Maybourne affirmed.

Several shots into the control panel from Jack's handgun and the door was sealed shut, only way it was going to be opened was by brute force or a large explosion. Jack hoped they were well out of the way before the Jaffa tried to blow it open.

"Here they come!" Walter yelled.

"Get down here!" Jack ordered.

"Nearly there," Markhov yelled. "Two more minutes!"

"We don't have two more minutes, damn it!" Jack yelled. "Maybourne, get up there!"

Maybourne nodded abruptly and ran to the rope hanging through the broken window of the control room. He'd grabbed hold of it when the sound of gunfire and staff blasts split the air. There were two windows in the control room overlooking the gate room – Walter had only broken one earlier. Jack watched with horror as a staff bolt threw a body backwards straight through the glass. It seemed to take days for the body to start falling, and the dull thud as it crunched into the ground rose up above the sound of staff blasts and screaming.

Bek was screaming; she came flying out the window and down the rope, panic on her face as she ran toward Jack. "We're done!" she screamed. "Let's go, we're done!" Markhov slid down the rope seconds later, her clothes blood splattered and a burn on her cheek.

"Walter!" Jack yelled, "Maybourne!"

Maybourne let go of the rope he'd been holding and skidded across the floor to Walter's unmoving form. "He's dead, Colonel!" Maybourne gasped, his voice strangled in his throat. "They killed him!"

"Oh, fuck," Jack whispered, casting another glance at the body lying unmoving on the floor. Staff blasts were raining down into the gateroom, skidding along the concrete floors and burning gashes into it.

They ran toward the gate, blasts firing down around them. Grabbing Bek's hand, Jack pulled her forward and they fell through the gate, the sudden cold of the wormhole jerking through him, a long forgotten sensation almost unexpected as he was pulled apart and spun around and put back together, tumbling into the sunshine on the hard, dusty earth of Cimmeria.

Energy bolts whizzed over head, and he dragged Bek out of range, ignoring her vomiting and gasping. Maybourne and Markhov rolled through, dragging themselves off to the side.

"Colonel O'Neill!" someone was calling, and he looked around the pretty landscape turning dark and hazy as pain radiated along his arm.

Hit. He was hit.

And so was Maybourne.

Shit.

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

Her body was hot and damp in his arms. The sweat sticking her dirty clothes to her flushed skin had nothing to do with the morning sun beating down on them and everything to do with the angry red swelling of the sting as inflammation streaked up the pale skin of her leg.

Paul Davis cursed as Cassandra shuddered in his arms, her breathing coming in oddly strangled hiccups and gasps.

Between his legs, the horse was straining, sweat lathering its tan coat and sticking his BDU's to the insides of his calves. The smell of hay and leather and animal was thick in the air, and the only sounds he could hear was the heavy breathing of the mare and the thunder of her hooves over the dried summer earth.

"Come on," he whispered, urging the animal faster. He hated pushing the beast; hated the way its breathing sounded so laboured and the way it was straining to meet his demands of faster, faster, faster, but they had no choice. Not if they wanted to live.

It wouldn't be long before the bugs were back, buzzing and swooping in the air around them.

Over the sounds of hooves and breathing, he heard something else. Something whining and insistent, a mosquito on a summer's night that circled and swooped its prey until it could strike and draw blood.

Paul kicked his heels into the mount, urging her faster and faster.

The whine grew louder, and he chanced a glance up and over his shoulder.

A death glider.

Pulling on the reins he turned the horse off the gravel road and into the forest, following the curve of the road under the shade of trees. It was dangerous, insane even, to gallop a horse through the woods, but he had little choice. Branches whipped at him, stinging his cheeks and his arms and he knew they were battering Cassandra and the horse as well.

The horse slowed, and he kicked it faster, hoping against hope the animal was smart enough to avoid the trees.

Next to him the trees exploded in a flash of hot fire, and the horse screamed in fear, skittering to the side and running him into a tree branch. He felt the crack of his shoulder popping out of its socket before he felt the pain, but the horse was panicking and the forest was on fire.

He yanked the reins again, trying to keep the horse close to the road where the trees were thinner. The animal was breathing heavily, hacking sounds rising from its ribs, but Paul didn't have to kick it faster; it was bolting as fast it as it could and he was simply along for the ride.

The next charge from the energy weapons hit the trees directly ahead of them, and the horse shied. As it spun to the side, Paul felt his feet slip out of the stirrups and he was flying through the air, still holding Cassandra.

A tree broke his fall, and it dazed him as he lay on the ground, watching the horse gallop with its stirrups and reins flying. A second later a bolt hit the animal, and the stench of burning meat and singed hair filled the forest which was suddenly too quiet.

Paul clutched Cassandra close, staring fearfully at the sky through the leaves of the trees.

The glider swooped once, twice, and then he didn't see it.

The world spun as he struggled to his feet, his right arm dangling uselessly. He hesitated, staring down at it and feeling his stomach twist and roil as the pain forced his breakfast from long ago up and past his throat. He retched into the bushes, his torn fingers – when had they gotten so torn and ragged, he wondered dimly – clutching at the rough trunk of a tree to hold him steady while he retched until nothing was left inside.

Swallowing, he tried to erase the vile taste left in his mouth, and found the world was starting to fade with little flecks of light dancing across his vision.

He couldn't pass out. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed his useless arm with his other hand, holding it steady for a second.

He knew the physics about popping the bone back. He'd been trained on it in case of an emergency. But no one had told him how to work up the courage to do it to himself, or how it hurt and felt like his arm was being pulled out of his body by gravity alone.

Bracing himself against a tree, Paul shut his eyes and took a deep breath, paused, and jerked. The head of his humerus slid back in with a sickening crunch, and his nerves felt as though they were on fire. But he could use his arm.

Using his tree as a brace for a few more seconds, he got his breath back, waiting until the dizzying spinning of the world settled down and he could look around without feeling as though he was going to pass out.

Cassandra whimpered on the ground where she had fallen, and he leant over her cautiously, checking her pulse and feeling the heat of her skin against his fingertips.

"Come on, Cassandra," he whispered hoarsely, leaning down and gracelessly dragging her over his shoulders. "Come on. We're almost there. You just need to hang on a little longer."

The facility was in view when the death gliders came back, swooping angrily overhead. By the time he was inside and the door bolted behind him, he knew they had landed and it would only be a matter of time before they were found.

"They're here," he whispered, and everything went black.

---


	12. Chapter 12

---

**PART TWELVE**

---

**Cimmeria**

Geirwyn had aged, Jack thought as he stared up at her. The tangled locks of her hair were streaked with an iron grey, matching the woman's demeanour of steel and strength.

"Be careful, Colonel," she said, helping him sit up. "You wounds are severe, but Ellat says you have older injuries which are of a greater concern."

"I'm fine," Jack said, but his voice was hoarse and grated in his throat.

"Of course you are," she said dryly. "What brings you to Cimmeria, Colonel O'Neill? I did not think we would be seeing you again."

"I didn't think so either," he admitted, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to catch his breath between the burning stabs of pain in his chest and the fire burning hotly in his shoulder. "God, I'm glad I'm here," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You have not come to see us though, have you?" She was, he realised, as perceptive as ever.

"No," he agreed, "we have to find Thor."

"It has been a long time since we heard from either the SGC or Thor," she said, and he detected a note of concern in her voice. "We thought you would want to speak with him, so I have already summoned him."

"Thank you," Jack murmured. "The people who came through the gate with me?" he asked.

"Not your usual companions. They are fine, but the man – Maybourne – he is injured too."

Jack rubbed at his face, stretching the kinks out of his neck before rising unsteadily to his feet, silently accepting Geirwyn's steadying arm. "Geirwyn, I don't want to be rude, but I have speak to Thor as soon as possible. How long do you think it will be before he arrives?"

"I cannot answer that," Geirwyn said apologetically, "he appears when he does."

"I need to see the others," Jack said.

"Is your world in trouble, Colonel?"

"Yes," he said, "very big trouble. We need Thor's help."

"Is there anything my people can do-"

The achingly familiar flash of white blinded him, making his eyes burn as he shut them and staggered for balance without Geirwyn's arm there to steady him.

"O'Neill."

Blinking owlishly, Jack took a few seconds to regard the small Asgard in front of him. "Thor," he said, "long time no see."

"It is good to see you alive, O'Neill, however you do not look well."

"Well, no," Jack agreed, "there is that. We need your help Thor."

The equivalent of a sigh whispered softly between the air between then, and Jack was surprised to discern an expression of regret on the Asgard's face which was normally expressionless. "A Goa'uld has launched an attack on Earth."

"You know about it?"

"Yes."

"And you haven't done anything about it?"

"We cannot, O'Neill."

"Why not?" Jack demanded. "They've let a bug loose, Thor, a bug that kills everything it stings and turns it into more bugs. They are going to wipe us out, and you can't do anything about it?"

"No."

Jack clenched his jaw, anger bubbling hot and dark inside, like burning syrup. It boiled up and out, and something inside him snapped. "What the hell happened to the protected planet's treaty, Thor?"

"That has been a bluff for a long time, O'Neill."

"A bluff? Was it a bluff when Carter came up with a dumb idea to save your grey ass, Thor? Was it a bluff when we went undercover to find your technology thieves? It wasn't a bluff when I as lying in that small room with a fucking snake in my head!"

"I am sorry, O'Neill, there was nothing we could do then without risking the entire Asgard race. We do not have the ability to defeat the Goa'uld."

"Come on, Thor, you're just going to leave us like this?"

"There is nothing we can do, O'Neill. Our own fleet is dangerously small and in the process of being destroyed by the Replicators. There is nothing we can do – the Goa'uld would easily destroy us if we were to interfere."

"Isn't there anyone who can help us?" Jack demanded angrily.

"Of a race with superior technology and a willingness to help, I do not know. If I knew of such a race, O'Neill, then the Asgard would have employed their assistance long ago."

Jack dropped his face into his hands, scrubbing at his eyes. "What about getting them out?"

"Who?"

"Our people," he said simply. "Can't you pick them up and we just all transfer to another planet?"

"That would not be possible, O'Neill. Your population is too large, and the Goa'uld would detect us as soon as we enter the atmosphere."

"Is there anything you can do to help?"

"I am afraid not," Thor said. "I am sorry, O'Neill. I did not wish for relations between us to end this way."

"End this way?"

"Your world will be controlled by the Goa'uld, and your people destroyed. There will not be relations between the Asgard and the people of Earth when that happens."

Jack licked his lips. "So that's it then. Everything that's happened, and it's just over. Like that."

Thor bowed his head silently, not answering. Jack sighed heavily.

"What about the Tok'ra? Don't they have something that can help us?"

"The Tok'ra are a dying race, O'Neill. They are trying to save their last – I do not believe they would have the technology, ability or desire to help Earth."

"We really fucked things up, didn't we?"

"Diplomacy was not a strong point of Stargate Command after General Hammond passed on."

"Could we at least try the Tok'ra?" Jack asked tiredly, feeling old and frail as he sank to the ground where he stood, staring at the Asgard.

"We can," Thor agreed.

A flash of light flooded the room, and when it faded Bek, Svetlana, Maybourne and Geirwyn were all on board the ship as well.

"Thor," Geirwyn greeted, smiling, "it has been a long time."

"Regrettably," Thor agreed, "however, not deliberate."

"We did not think so," Geirwyn said amicably.

"Tell your people I will return to make sure you are well soon. I must take O'Neill and his companions to the Tok'ra, and then I will return."

Geirwyn nodded, turning to Jack. "It was good to see you again, Colonel. I hope all goes well with your world, and that we see you again."

Jack smiled. "I hope so too, Geirwyn. Thank you."

She nodded, and in a flash of light she disappeared.

"What's happening, Jack?" Maybourne asked, his voice tight with strain of his injuries.

"The Asgard can't help us. Thor's taking us to the Tok'ra to see if there's anything they can do."

"The journey will not take long. I will put you and Colonel Maybourne in the stasis pods until we reach the Tok'ra homeworld – your injuries require treatment."

"Put Maybourne in, I'm fine," Jack said.

"O'Neill, your injuries-"

"No, Thor, I'm fine. I don't need to be put in that… that… thing. I'm just fine."

The Asgard considered him for several seconds, and then nodded. "Very well. If you change your mind O'Neill-"

It was small and dark and too much like a sarcophagus.

"I won't."

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

There were calluses on her thumb and index finger; at night her hands would cramp and spasm and she'd lay awake, staring at the dark and imagining the stars in the sky while the pain flared. In the morning her hands would be stiff, aching, and without movement.

They'd taken her off the sewing duty and put her onto the laundry & kitchen rotations the fourth time she put the needle through her finger. The blood had been bright and red against white linen – the only colour other than the bright orange of her uniform.

Sam woke with a start, blinking up at a cold grey ceiling and stifling a groan of pain. Her hands were cold and stiff, but the ache was only a dim memory. Her head, however, was pounding, and each breath informed her she either had broken ribs, or severely bruised ribs.

"Sam?" a gentle voice asked.

She twisted her head to the side quickly – too quickly – and colourful streaks of pain painted dizzying flowers across her vision and she tasted her pain in the back of her throat.

"Easy, Sam, easy," Janet whispered, her hands gentle on Sam's forehead.

"Janet?" Sam asked, confused, lost. "What are you doing here?"

"Where?" Janet asked carefully.

She struggled to form the word, but it refused to let her lips create it. Prison, she thought. Prison. I'm in prison, Janet.

"Sam, you're not in prison," Janet said gently. "You're at a nuclear facility near the SGC. Do you remember?"

She remembered Samuels and the stars through the foggy window of a car with leather seats that stuck to her too-hot back. She remembered warm sunshine and the scent of grass and the feel of hands on her back.

"He's alive," she whispered.

"Yes," Janet said. "He is. Do you remember what happened, Sam?"

"We were flying," Sam whispered, closing her eyes as the images, bright and painfully real flickered through her memory. "I… There were death gliders. I don't remember what happened."

"It's okay, Sam. You had to jump, and you hit a branch or two on the way down."

"No wonder I hurt," she said, trying to smile over the waves of pain lapping at her.

"It's okay," Janet said again. "I've got some morphine, but you need to rest now. Can you do that?"

Sam wanted to nod, but her head was too sore and the grey of the room was slowly fading into black again.

---  
**Elcor – Resistence homeworld**

The air was cool and smelt like glass. The flickering blue-green crystal walls cast an odd hue to his hand when he held it in front of him, and he stared at it for several seconds before letting his attention refocus on Jack and the Tok'ra in front of him.

"You expect a lot from the Tok'ra, O'Neill, yet you and your people have given us very little in return."

"I know," Jack agreed, nodding his head in a sharp acquiescence, "but this doesn't just affect us, Garshaw. This could affect you too. The Goa'uld infiltration in the SGC means that several of your operatives could be compromised by knowledge these Goa'uld might have gained."

"I do not believe so, O'Neill. The Tau'ri knew of only a few operatives and their places within Goa'uld ranks. Most of those have either been exposed, or their missions completed. Very few Tok'ra are where they were three years ago, and in three years we have had very little to do with the SGC."

"Look, this Goa'uld – Thor said he was called Ma'lok – is so far down the ranks of Goa'uld he's little more than a servant himself, right? If this Goa'uld gets earth, he'll have an entire population to enslave as a Jaffa army. Six billion people, Garshaw. Okay, a few less by the time he stops the bugs – if he even knows how – but still, a few billion is a huge number."

"It makes no difference to us, Colonel O'Neill," another Tok'ra said. "What does it matter if one Goa'uld rises? We have operatives where they are needed. We have not got the resources to assist you."

"Where's Selmak?" Jack asked, ignoring the last statement.

"Selmak is coming," Garshaw said dismissively. "Even if we brought this before the High Council, Colonel, none of them would agree to help. We cannot endanger our people for a lost cause."

"It's not a lost cause!" Jack snapped loudly, the effect of the words undermined by a coughing spasm which left him clutching at the crystal walls for support. Maybourne eyed the man's pallor – he was almost grey under the strange glow of the crystals. A frisson of concern worked its way down Maybourne's spine, and he looked at Jack critically, wondering why Jack had refused the Asgard's stasis pod – it had worked wonders on his own injuries and health.

"Colonel, I understand you are concerned about your planet, but there is nothing we can do," Garshaw said.

"There is something, Garshaw," someone disagreed from behind them. "For a single Goa'uld with a small army relying on the effects of this creature it unleashed on the Tau'ri, it would work very effectively."

Garshaw's lips tightened as Selmak stepped into view, his face carefully masked.

"Jacob," Jack greeted, watching the older man.

"Jack."

"How are you doing, sir?" Jack asked politely.

"Fine. Haven't been better actually. You don't look too good, Jack," Jacob said bluntly. "What the hell have you been up to?"

"Oh, this and that," Jack said airily, waving his hand around.

Jacob frowned. "Jack, you were blended."

"Very observant," Jack drawled. "Just like your daughter."

Jacob Carter stiffened visibly, sharp lines of anger not faded by time appeared around his eyes as he stared at Jack.

"She's alive, Jacob, but unless you help us I don't know how much longer for."

"She's alive?" Jacob echoed dumbly.

"Yes. Big long conspiracy story we can tell you all about over coffee, but right now we need help."

Jacob Carter's eyes glowed, and Selmak spoke. "The Goa'uld Ma'lok."

"Yes. He's got a ready made army on Earth – a few weeks to Jaffa them up and bang, he's a ready contender in intergalactic politics."

"Colonel, do you know how long it would take a Goa'uld queen to spawn enough Jaffa for the number of people you are considering? Added to that, for her to create Jaffa she must see each Tau'ri herself to create the pouch. I find it highly unlikely that Ma'lok will use the people of Earth as Jaffa. Slaves, yes, but not Jaffa," Garshaw said.

"And that's assuming Ma'lok even has a queen," Selmak added.

"There is a queen," Jack said quietly. "They plan on using humans as Jaffa, Jacob. Trust me on this." I was there. I see it every time I close my eyes.

Selmak nodded.

"Look, I hate to interrupt our little discussion of Goa'uld plans, but wouldn't it be a good idea to stop the Goa'uld, regardless of what their plans are?" Maybourne interrupted impatiently.

Again, Selmak nodded, but when he spoke it was Jacob. "There might be something we can do to help, but it might not work. Jack, bring your team and we'll go for a walk on the surface. This way."

The abrupt change in conversation confused Maybourne for barely a second before he realised what Jacob was doing.

"Walls have ears?" Jack asked as they stepped into a large room.

Around them the ring transporters hummed into life, and Maybourne found himself standing in between large trees with drooping branches hanging down onto the ground which appeared suspiciously wet and soggy underfoot.

"Well, this certainly is a change from the usual sandy planets," Jack commented, and Maybourne was fairly certain Jack was about as impressed with the muddiness as he was with the sandiness.

Jacob chuckled, but the sound died quickly as their footsteps squelched in a seemingly random direction over the sucking ground. "Tell me about her, Jack," the Tok'ra implored.

"They put her in prison, Jacob, slid her between the gaps and just put her in. She hasn't said much about it, but I don't think she saw the sun much."

"But she's ok."

Maybourne raised his eyebrows, and watched as Jack looked nervously at Jacob. "There was an accident, Jacob."

"What do you mean?"

"We had to get to Russia to get a gate we could use," Jack explained. "Carter – Sam – was part of a decoy. She had to 'chute out of a plane, and I think she hit some branches on the way down."

"Is she ok?"

"She wasn't conscious when I left, but she was alive," Jack said quietly.

Jacob was quiet for a few minutes.

"Not many Tok'ra know about this, but a few years ago we developed something."

"What?" Jack asked.

"A biological agent which, when released, kills any Goa'uld symbiote whether in a host or a Jaffa, without any effect on humans."

Maybourne faltered in his steps, Jack doing the same.

"Jacob, are you telling me you've found a way to wipe out the Goa'uld?" he hissed.

"We have," Jacob agreed. "But we can't use it."

"Why not?"

"Jack, this doesn't only kill the Goa'uld, it effectively kills the Jaffa too."

"But aren't the Jaffa bad?" Bek asked, speaking up for the first time since leaving Earth – Maybourne had almost forgotten about both her and Svetlana.

"No," Jacob said. "The Jaffa are enslaved by the Goa'uld. Jack, who is this?"

"This is Bek, Jacob. She's a friend of Cassie's."

Jacob raised his eyebrows, but refrained from commenting.

"She's a tech head, Jacob, and when Carter was injured, Bek took her place because we needed her technical knowledge to get the Stargate going."

"Where are we going?" Bek asked, having found her voice again, now fully intending on using it.

"To see what we can do about helping to save Earth," Jacob replied cryptically. "Jack, these creatures that Ma'lok released on Earth, they will still be a problem even if you can eliminate Ma'lok and remove the Goa'uld threat."

"I'm aware of that, Jacob, but if we can get the Goa'uld out of the way we can look realistically at relocating."

"The entire population of earth?"

"No," Jack said, "what's left on earth. These bugs, Jacob, they're… we saw what they did to the planet we found them on, and I read the projections done when Teal'c was infected. It's slower now, granted, but that doesn't mean it's not going to happen."

"What about a vaccine?" 

Jack shrugged. "For humans, sure, it'll help if we get stung, but even if Fraiser and Harlowe find the vaccine soon it's not going to mean anything. The bugs aren't picky – they sting everything that moves. Soon there won't be anything left, and I don't know that the planet can survive that."

"Have you found any weaknesses in the bugs yet?"

"EMPs wipe them out," Maybourne offered, "but that effectively wipes us out too, and it doesn't guarantee that every bug is taken out. And they're less active at night than in the day –Dr. Harlowe was speculating on cooler weather slowing them down."

"Shielding with the EMP?"

"Technology won't work in an EMP shield," Bek said dismissively. "And I don't see how such a huge field could be maintained constantly."

Around them, the planet rustled and moved; wildlife invisible in the undergrowth but still audible. It was wet and damp, and Maybourne knew that a planet like this would drive him insane, offering nowhere dry to stop and relax.

"Where did you say we were going, Jacob?" Jack asked after a while.

"I didn't," Jacob said, "but we're almost there."

---


	13. Chapter 13

---

**PART THIRTEEN**

---

**Elcor – Resistance Homeworld**

The planet was as cold and wet as it had been since they day they arrived. Underfoot the ground was always wet and damp; inviting the cold to grow in bones used to the hot sun and dry sands of desert planets or the controlled environment of a Goa'uld ship. There was never complete silence – it was always broken by the shattering of water droplets on leaves and ground and mud, a steady background murmur that only grew louder during storms but never quite seemed to cease.

Around him the sound of the camp drowned out the steady dripping, hiding it beneath the slight clanging of pots and the hollow echo of wooden training staffs cracked an uneven rhythm that carried clearly through the damp air.

"You are not sparring today, my friend?"

From anyone else, the question would not have been tolerated – what he did and when he did it was a matter for him and him alone to decide.

"No," he said simply, turning to look at his companion before letting his gaze rest on a barely visible path through the damp undergrowth.

"What are you thinking, Teal'c?" Bra'tac asked.

"I am not certain, Bra'tac," Teal'c admitted, shifting his grip on his staff weapon. His words were calm and confident, but there was a restlessness which he had learnt long ago not to ignore.

The constant drizzle of the planet shifted slightly, and Teal'c sighed internally as once again the heavens opened and fat droplets of water splattered onto his skin, turning it slick and cold and wet.

"It will not be too soon if we leave this planet," Bra'tac groused, swinging his cloak around him to try and deflect the water. It was for show though, Teal'c knew, as there was not much on this planet that managed to remain dry. "Come, Teal'c, it will not do to stand here and get chilled."

Reluctantly Teal'c nodded, and allowed Bra'tac to lead him back to the tents where hot drinks and a nourishing meal awaited.

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

Mama told me there'd be days like this. Paul smirked to himself and closed his eyes. No, there was no way his mother had ever imagined days like this.

"Sir? I have some news," Andrews said.

"News?"

"I got through on the computers. Reports are indicating that Russia tried nuking one of the ships. Our guys discovered the EMPs and are setting them off over cities and areas heavily affected by the bugs."

"They're not nuking yet?"

"No, sir. I think someone with past experience of Goa'uld attacks on earth vetoed it based on the knowledge that they don't affect the Goa'uld ships at all. Troops have engaged the Jaffa in battle in various regions though, where EMPs were launched. It looks fairly even at this stage, but it's starting to swing in favour of the Goa'uld."

Paul sighed as Samuels entered the room.

"They know we're here," Samuels said. "There are several death gliders circling, but as yet they haven't sent Jaffa patrols down."

"Why's it taking them this long?" Andrews asked.

"The bugs are back," Samuels said. "While they're not fatal to the Jaffa, they will impede them."

"What's our plan of attack, sir?" Tom queried. "If the Jaffa aren't willing to risk exposure to the bugs yet, we could use that to our advantage."

"All we can do is try and buy some time until O'Neill and Maybourne get here with help," Paul said.

No one spoke, yet the words hung in the air.

If they managed to find help.

---  
**Elcor – Resistance Homeworld**

Long before anything was visible, they could hear the hollow echo of wood cracking against wood hammering through the damp undergrowth. The steady drizzle turned harder, and Jack sighed to himself as it became an open downpour, sending rivulets of cold water running icily down his back.

"What happened to the hot, sandy planets, Jacob?" he demanded, more to break the silence than really complain.

"They're not viable to support an entire population, Jack," Jacob replied.

"Population? No offence, Jacob, but there aren't enough Tok'ra to call it a population."

"None taken," Jacob said, and Jack could swear there was amusement on the dry tone. "It's not our population that has to be supported. It's this one."

As he spoke, Jack became aware of carefully concealed tents and buildings constructed in the woods around them. "What is this?"

"They call themselves the Free Jaffa Nation."

Jack stared incredulously at Jacob. "The Tok'ra and the Jaffa?"

"We're not one big happy family, Jack, but the Tok'ra and Jaffa are working together. Barely, but we are."

"And how did you accomplish this?" Jack asked, still dumbfounded. Tok'ra and Jaffa? Together? Willingly? That was about as unlikely as the Russians and Americans working together cooperatively.

"Through Teal'c," Jacob said quietly. He had no sooner spoken the words, then the Jaffa appeared in the entrance of a large dwelling, staff weapon in hand and rough cloak covering his shoulders.

Teal'c said nothing as he gazed at them, and Jack felt something painful squeeze in his heart. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed the Jaffa's solid company and steady friendship. He would have appreciated the Jaffa's insight to his experience with the Goa'uld, as well as his assistance in dealing with the bugs and subsequent Goa'uld invasion.

Jack walked to Teal'c slowly, ignoring the rain that was now tumbling down roughly on his shoulders and plastering his hair to his scalp. "Teal'c," Jack said quietly, watching the Jaffa.

Teal'c said nothing, and Jack felt a moment of uncertainty as he was subjected to Teal'c's scrutiny. "How ya been, T?" he asked, trying to lighten the situation.

To his surprise, Teal'c's lip quirked in what could be construed as a smile, before a grin appeared on his dark face. "O'Neill," Teal'c said simply, and a second later he was trapped by the Jaffa's arms in a not entirely unwelcome display of affection.

"Teal'c, buddy," Jack said, giving Teal'c an affectionate slap on the back before pushing him away. "I know you missed me, but not that much!" he grinned.

"I believed you were dead, O'Neill," Teal'c said quietly, reverting back to his schooled features but not quite managing to hide the strength of his emotions.

"I was," Jack agreed blithely. "But we all know how long that lasts around this universe."

A look of hesitation crept across Teal'c's features. "Major Carter and Daniel Jackson?"

"Carter's alive, but Daniel… I don't think he made it, Teal'c."

Teal'c nodded sombrely. "It is good to see you, O'Neill."

Jack smiled again, and was about to reply when Maybourne chipped in. "It's good to be seeing each other again and all that, Teal'c, but do you think we could do the reunions and catch-up times inside? This planet is damn wet."

Teal'c nodded his head in agreement, and stepped back to the building he had just exited. "This way."

Inside was cool and poorly lit, but it was dry and surprisingly free of damp. Jack decided immediately that he liked it. He settled himself on a coarse cushion next to Teal'c, and let his gaze run quickly around the small hut. Clean, sparse, and impersonal. Yet, the various candles burning on small shelves and ledges made it feel warm and welcome.

"Well," Maybourne said, once they were settled. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"We must wait for Bra'tac and Ishta," Teal'c disagreed quietly. "They will be here shortly – your presence would have been announced to them."

"You keep guard?"

"Yes. The Goa'uld have not located our new homeworld yet, however we do not imagine it will always be the case," Teal'c said calmly.

"Oh," Jack realised, "I haven't introduced you to everyone yet. Teal'c, this is Svetlana Markhov who I think you've already met, and this is Bek… Bek. She's a friend of Cassandra Fraiser. Bek, this is Teal'c."

"It is nice to see you again, Teal'c," Svetlana smiled at the Jaffa.

"And you to, Dr. Markhov," Teal'c returned. "How is Cassandra Fraiser?" he inquired.

"Cassie's good," Jack said conversationally.

The hut door opened, allowing a damp tendril of air to snake into the room before it was followed by Bra'tac and a woman with blond hair and defiant eyes.

"O'Neill," Bra'tac said as Jack struggled to his feet to display the customary respect of greeting. "It is good to see you well."

"You too, Bra'tac."

"This is Ishta, O'Neill. She is one of our leaders."

"O'Neill of the Tau'ri," Ishta said, regarding him thoughtfully. "Teal'c believed you were dead."

"I was," Jack said again, glancing across at Teal'c.

"Please, be seated," Bra'tac said, motioning them to sit down again.

Jack did as ordered, feeling his eyebrows raise as Ishta took a seat next to Teal'c, and Bra'tac was relegated to the other side of the table.

"You are not here to visit us," Teal'c stated calmly, getting to the point immediately.

"No," Jack agreed. "A Goa'uld is attacking Earth, and we need your help."

"Ma'lok," Teal'c stated.

"You've heard of him?" Jack asked.

"Yes."

"And?"

"We do not have the numbers or resources to do what you ask, O'Neill," Bra'tac said bluntly. "Ma'lok is a lesser Goa'uld, but his numbers far outweigh our own."

Jack glanced across at Jacob before responding. "Jacob was under the impression that there was something you could do to help."

"What were you considering?" Bra'tac asked Jacob calmly, but even Jack could pick up on a strain of tension.

Before Jacob could reply, a knock sounded loudly on the flimsy wooden door.

"Enter," Teal'c called, staring at the door.

"I apologise for interrupting, Teal'c, but Ja'nek has been sent by the Tok'ra high council," a Jaffa explained.

"Ja'nek?" Jacob asked, surprised. "Why?"

A Tok'ra appeared in the doorway. "Garshaw felt my presence was necessary."

Jacob's eyes glowed, and when he spoke again it was Selmak. "Why would your presence be necessary, Ja'nek."

"Garshaw did not want a decision made that would affect the Tok'ra, without another representative present."

"I am the Tok'ra representative with the Jaffa," Selmak responded coldly.

Ja'nek shrugged. "Garshaw requested it. I apologise, Selmak, but I cannot refuse the High Council."

Selmak nodded, and looked across at the Jaffa. "Do you object?"

"If you do not, no," Bra'tac said warily, eyeing the new Tok'ra with evident distrust.

"Thank you," Ja'nek said, bowing before taking a seat as the young Jaffa who had brought him over left the dwelling, shutting the door behind him.

An awkward silence permeated the air, and Jack shifted uncomfortably on his cushion. "Where were we?" he asked brightly.

"Discussing what assistance Jacob thought the Jaffa could offer the Tau'ri," Ishta said smoothly, staring across at the Tok'ra. "Please, Jacob, enlighten us as to how you think we can defeat Ma'lok's forces, as if it's possible I assure you my people will jump at the chance."

"You hold the means in your hands, Ishta," Jacob said cryptically, staring back at the blond Jaffa.

Ishta's eyes widened, while both Bra'tac and Teal'c tensed. "You are not suggesting…"

"I am," Jacob said simply. "They have been offered the chance to defect several times, and all of them refused. You yourself said they were a lost cause."

"But they are our kindred!" Ishta snapped angrily, slapping her palms on the low wooden table between them. "What you ask… no. We will not do it."

The Jaffa glanced at him warily, and then at the Tok'ra. "We had agreed, Selmak, that it would not be used. That it would not be mentioned," Ishta hissed vehemently.

"We did," Selmak agreed. "But, as I said, the Jaffa of Ma'lok will not be swayed. If Ma'lok can be stopped now, rather than later, it will only benefit our cause and yours. If we let him take Earth, he will only gain power and become a stronger force to defeat."

"Ishta is correct, Selmak. If that is what you were hoping for by coming here, I am afraid the Jaffa cannot help."

"How many Jaffa does Ma'lok have?" Jack asked.

"Several thousand," Ishta answered.

"Several thousand. My planet has over six billion people on it, Ishta. Six billion. And if we don't do anything, we'll be lucky to have several thousand left."

"We cannot do what you ask, O'Neill," Ishta said. "We would be killing our brethren."

"But you have said yourself, Ishta, that they can not be swayed. They are, therefore, the enemy and would not hesitate in killing you," Selmak pointed out.

"If we say yes this one time, it will be easier to say yes in the future," Bra'tac said. "We will use this to justify using it time and time again, and ultimately it will destroy the Jaffa. We cannot allow it to be used, O'Neill."

"But you can allow my planet to be wiped out."

They fell silent, and Jack stared at Teal'c. "Teal'c? What do you think about this?"

Teal'c sighed. "There is no honour, O'Neill, in using it."

"Using what?" Ja'nek questioned.

The Jaffa looked at each other uneasily, and then at Selmak. "Why would Garshaw send him?" Bra'tac questioned bluntly. "He is not aware, and we agreed it would remain that way."

Selmak shook his head, turning to gaze at the Tok'ra still waiting for an explanation. "I do not know, Bra'tac."

"I told you, Selmak, Garshaw wanted another Tok'ra representative. There are three Jaffa present, yet only one Tok'ra."

"It is not the Jaffa against the Tok'ra, Ja'nek," Selmak said sharply. "We are meeting here to decide something together, and thus far the Jaffa have not been unreasonable in their refusal of participating in my proposed action."

"I would not know, would I?" Jan'nek snapped, his eyes flashing angrily. "You do not appear to trust me enough to tell me what you are discussing, yet the Tau'ri who have betrayed us in the past are more trusted than I am."

"Only four Tok'ra know of this Ja'nek; it is for the safety of all Jaffa that it is so."

"Why?"

"Tell him, Selmak, and perhaps he will understand why we cannot agree to your request," Ishta snapped. "Or perhaps he will echo the Tok'ra arrogance and assume the Jaffa will abandon their own."

"We are not asking you to abandon your own!" Selmak said angrily. "We are asking you to help save the Tau'ri. Surely saving billions while defeating an enemy is worth it."

"Nothing is worth the murder of others, Bra'tac," Ishta snapped.

"It will not be murder. It is war, Ishta, and the Tau'ri are at stake."

"The Tau'ri have done nothing for us. In the past, they have ridiculed, mocked and abandoned us. We have no reason to help them now," Ishta spat.

"O'Neill has never betrayed us," Teal'c said calmly. "Had General Hammond not been murdered, I believe the Tau'ri would have been a powerful ally."

"But they are not!" Ishta repeated.

"No," Teal'c agreed, "but when Colonel O'Neill and General Hammond were at the SGC, they assisted where they could and helped more Jaffa than what they had to."

"Are you saying we should help them, Teal'c?" Ishta asked coldly.

"I'm not suggesting we agree to use the poison," Teal'c said calmly, "however, we cannot abandon them."

"Poison?" Ja'nek asked.

"The Tok'ra developed a poison which kills the symbiote, Ja'nek," Selmak said quietly. "It is effective against Goa'uld, Tok'ra and Jaffa alike, without affecting the human host."

Ja'nek's eyes widened in surprise. "And you have kept this hidden from the Tok'ra?" he whispered. "You gave it to the Jaffa?!"

"If it were used, Ja'nek, it would be the Jaffa who were most affected. It is their right to decide whether it is used or not," Jacob said quietly. "This is why the Tok'ra were not told – they would not agree with the decision."

"It was not your decision to make!" Ja'nek said angrily.

"Nor was it yours!" Ishta hissed. "The Tok'ra are arrogant. You believe you alone decide how the war is fought. You believe you are the mighty ones; the ones who will defeat the Goa'uld. You do not recognise that your own race is dying. The Jaffa here are stronger than the Tok'ra, yet you refuse to accept that. You treat us as though we are helpless and lost and primitive. We are not!"

"Ishta," Teal'c murmured.

"No!" Ishta snapped. "I will not be silent, Teal'c. I am tired of the Tok'ra making decisions for us. I am tired of them treating our brothers and sisters as dispensable. They are not – they are Jaffa like us and deserve the right to be free!"

Ja'nek rose stiffly to his feet. "I do not have to tolerate this," he snapped, his eyes flashing. The door slammed shut behind him, and in the hut the only noise to break the silence was the drumming of the rain on the roof.

"Well," Jack said, "that went well."

"I do not trust him, Selmak," Bra'tac said quietly, looking over at Selmak.

"Neither do I," Selmak agreed. "I am suspicious of Garshaw sending him, if she chose to send anyone."

"You believe he is a traitor?"

"I am to beginning to fear it, yes."

"It means we have been compromised, and the Goa'uld will learn about the poison," Teal'c said quietly.

"So stop him," Jack said bluntly.

Bra'tac smiled crookedly. "He will not be allowed to leave. Not if we have not yet emerged or explained why he is leaving early."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"He is a Tok'ra, and his motives are not trusted unless a Jaffa vouches for him. He will not be allowed to leave."

"We have no way of proving that he is a traitor, or even confirming it," Selmak pointed out.

"If he is accused, his arrogance will ensure he confesses," Ishta said bitterly.

"Well, are you going to find out or not?"

"We will. Hold on a few minutes, Jack, I just want to check something first," Jacob cautioned. He lifted a small device to his face, and stared at it intently. "Garshaw, are you there?"

"I am here, Jacob. Speak."

"A communicator," Bra'tac said in explanation.

"I can see that," Jack returned.

"Did you send Ja'nek to participate in the counsel with the Jaffa?" Jacob asked bluntly.

"No, I did not," Garshaw denied.

"Then he is a traitor. He has learnt about the poison, Garshaw, and has doubtlessly compromised our position. We have to stop him," Jacob added.

"I will be there shortly, Selmak."

"Thank you, Garshaw," Jacob responded. He looked up at the group. "Well, shall we go get our Goa'uld?"

"You guys stay here," Jack said to Bek and Svetlana as he stood up. "No point in everyone getting wet."

Both women nodded silently, hugely out of their league and well aware of it.

Following Teal'c out of the small hut, Jack was relieved to see Ja'nek involved in a heated discussion with several Jaffa who didn't appear to be concerned by the Tok'ra's apparent anger. 

"Ja'nek," Jacob called out. "Wait, I want to ask you something."

The Goa'uld turned around and stared at them as they approached, his face carefully schooled. "Yes, Selmak?"

"What are you planning to do with the knowledge you just gained?"

Ja'nek raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you now hold the power of destroying the Tok'ra for good. Are you going to use it?"

Ja'nek narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Destroy the Tok'ra, Selmak?"

"Oh, come on," Jacob continued, "you didn't think we actually bought the whole act, did you?"

Ja'nek's mouth quirked. "I am not a Goa'uld," he said.

"No?" Ishta asked innocently, raising her eyebrows. "Then you will not mind if we check for communications devices, will you?"

Ja'nek shrugged. "No," he said. "I am not a Goa'uld."

"Then explain to me why you are here?" Jacob asked coldly.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you claim I sent you, when I did not?" Garshaw demanded, surprising Jack with her sudden appearance behind Ja'nek.

Ja'nek spun around and gazed at her. And then he smiled, and shrugged. "It has taken you a long time to discover me," he murmured, "much too long."

"But we have found you," Garshaw said coldly.

"You have not found all of us," Ja'nek smirked. "You have no idea who are the traitors among you and who are not. Even the Jaffa are not all who they appear to be, and you are foolish enough to believe they would desert their gods."

Teal'c aimed his staff weapon at the Goa'uld. "Perhaps. But it is you who are foolish to think that your deception and threats will deter us from our cause, Ja'nek."

"No," Ja'nek said arrogantly. "It is you who are wrong to think you will survive this encounter. Jaffa! Kree!"

There was a sinking feeling in Jack's stomach as he heard staff weapon's powering up around him. Teal'c didn't hesitate a moment to lose a bolt from his staff weapon, and it felled Ja'nek easily. Jack spun around and launched himself behind a tree, aiming his P-90 at various Jaffa surrounding them.

The shooting started almost instantly, zat fire and staff blasts ricocheting madly through the air as Jaffa turned on one another. The air became smokey and tinged with the copper of blood and burning flesh.

"Maybourne," Jack yelled. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Three o'clock," Maybourne yelled back.

"Get to Svetlana and Bek and cover them!"

Jack had barely yelled the words when the fire-fight stopped as abruptly as it had begun. He peered around from behind his tree cautiously, looking dully at the bodies littering the muddy ground.

"Teal'c? Jacob?" he called cautiously.

"Here, O'Neill," Teal'c responded.

Jack left his tree and carefully picked his way across to where Teal'c was kneeling on the ground. Ishta was lying on the ground, her eyes closed and her face pale.

"Is she alive?" Jack asked hesitantly, uncertain of Teal'c's relationship with the woman.

"Yes," Teal'c whispered. 

"Garshaw is injured," Jacob called out. "We need to get them out of the rain, and somewhere comfortable. El'son is down as well."

Jack moved over to Jacob, grimacing when he saw Garshaw. She was still alive – the gasping breaths and weak moans made that apparent – but she wouldn't be alive for much longer.

"We need some help over here!" Jack called out, looking around. The Jaffa ignored him, tending to their own fallen in the eerily silent war ground, only the rain still hammering down answering Jack's call. "Maybourne! Come and give a hand!" he yelled, leaning down to help Jacob with Garshaw. But Jack was weak and tired and not the man he used to be; broken.

"Jack!" he heard someone yell. "Oh, God, Jack! Maybourne's been hit by something!"

In the forest with mud and rain and death Jack felt himself start to slip away. The world was turning grey and distant and silent as he stared at Bek leaning over Maybourne several yards away.

No chance. They stood no fucking chance. Everyone was out to get them.

"Jack!" Bek yelled again. "God, Jack, I need help! I don't know what to do! He's hurt, Jack!"

And reality came rushing back with the wet splatter of rain against his cheek and Bek's voice screaming hoarsely for help.

Maybourne didn't look good. His skin was an unearthly grey pallor, and his stillness worried Jack. Jack didn't actually like Maybourne, but damn it, Maybourne couldn't die on him. Not now, not after everything else.

"Oh, God," Jacob hissed, skidding to a stop next to Jack. "Jack, I have Tok'ra that need hosts and you have a man there who needs a symbiote."

"No," Jack said flatly. "No way in hell."

"It's the only way he stands a chance, Jack!" Jacob snapped.

"No. Maybourne would not want a… a THING in his head," Jack disagreed vehemently.

"He'd rather die than be blended?" Jacob demanded. "Come on, Jack. This is Harry Maybourne. From what I've heard about him he'll do anything to avoid a nasty fate."

"How do I know that being blended isn't a nasty fate?" Jack returned.

"Hey, I'm happy," Jacob hissed. "Come on, Jack. Either he dies, or he gets a chance."

Jack hesitated for a second. "If Maybourne wants the snake out?"

"It will leave," Jacob agreed.

Jack licked his lips, and felt his insides twist. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

Together they dragged the Tok'ra – El'son – to where Maybourne lay. 

Jack didn't watch.

"What about her?" Bek asked quietly, her face pale as she nodded at Garshaw's limp form.

"The host will not survive – her injuries are far too severe. Maybourne will stand a greater chance with El'son than with Garshaw," Jacob said quietly.

"What about with me?" Bek asked.

"What?" Jack demanded, grabbing hold of her arm, slick with rain and blood and mud. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'll do it," Bek said firmly. "I want to do it."

"BEK! No!"

"But she's DYING, Jack!"

"Bek, you have no idea what those things do to you!"

"What about Jacob and Selmak?" she countered angrily. "I want to do this!"

Jack hesitated, and then let go of her arm. He didn't watch as the symbiote transferred hosts; the gagging noises made him want to retch and he remembered fighting and drowning and losing control and the burning darkness in his mind that controlled him.

"Easy, Bek, easy. Garshaw?" Jacob asked gently.

"We are fine, Selmak. We must rest now."

Jack turned and looked down at the girl lying in the mud with her eyes shut and blood on her lips and the rain kept falling harder and harder.

What the fuck had he just done?

---


	14. Chapter 14

---

**PART FOURTEEN**

---

**Nuclear Facility**

Janet's eyes were tired and burning, dry with exhaustion and itching with frustration. Cassandra's hand was hot in her own, two bright spots of colour burning on her otherwise pale cheeks. Someone's shoes scuffed against the concrete floor behind Janet, but she didn't turn around.

"Janet?"

"What are you doing up, Sam?" Janet asked quietly, gently stroking the back of Cassie's hands with her fingertips. The girl shuddered faintly on the bed, but other than that there was no change.

"What's wrong with Cassandra?" Sam demanded sharply, ignoring Janet's question.

"She's been stung," Janet said softly. "Timothy and I gave her a shot of what we hope is an adequate anti-viral about an hour ago, but there's been no change."

"Oh, God. Janet, I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

Janet heard Sam's boots moving toward her, and a second later Sam was standing next to the small cot, staring down at Cassie.

"She was devastated," Janet whispered, feeling her eyes burn with more than just exhaustion and fear. "Absolutely overwhelmed when you were accused and found guilty of the Colonel's death. She never believed it, you know."

"No," Sam said, "I didn't."

"Out of everyone, Cassandra is the only one who flatly refused to believe that on some level you were capable of setting that bomb. Me? I thought maybe they compromised you somehow, with a drug or with brainwashing or anything. But Cassie, she believed in you Sam."

Janet heard the hitch in Sam's breathing, but she continued before Sam could say something.

"When I saw you – yesterday, was it? The day before? I can't remember anymore. But when I saw you, you looked so cold and hard, Sam. That was the first time I really believed that you, Sam Carter, was capable of doing something like that."

"What's your point, Janet?" Sam asked coldly.

"I was wrong again," Janet whispered. "Blinded, because I suddenly realised that all along I thought you were guilty. God, Sam, I was the one doing your evaluations. You were scraping through the psychological components – some days, McKenzie and I should have failed you. You were a complete wreck, but we let you go. We let you go because you were the best and the SGC needed you. I blamed myself for letting you go so hard you snapped."

"But I didn't snap," Sam said quietly. "Three years in a fucking women's institution has fucked me up more than any number of years on the Stargate program."

Janet chuckled bitterly. "I know."

"Is this your guilt trip, Janet?" Sam asked suddenly. "The part where you break down and cry because you failed me, and it's your fault, and then I comfort you and tell you it's ok, that we're still best friends as though nothing happened?" The questions were asked calmly, normally, and Janet almost believed that Sam was okay.

Almost.

"No," Janet said. "This is the part where I tell you I'm not perfect. Where I tell you I'm capable of breaking friendships by not trusting, of making mistakes because I allow myself to be led to a solution that I find the easiest to understand. This is the part, Sam, where I tell you I don't know what to do. I'm as lost and confused as I was on the day you were sentenced and executed.

My daughter is lying on a bed and dying, because I failed to see through the lies woven around you by the enemy itself. I didn't trust you, and I should have spoken to you about your mental evaluations to put myself at ease, because I would have known you were ok. If I'd known that, I would have known for sure you couldn't have planted that bomb."

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn't it?" Sam asked, her voice brittle. "I thought you of all people would have trusted me."

"Me too," Janet agreed. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam reached over and brushed a damp lock of hair away from Cassandra's face, her fingers trailing lightly over the hot skin.

"Take care of Cassie, Janet," Sam said quietly.

"Where are you going?"

"The Jaffa know where we are. I have to help Davis with the defences."

Janet nodded briefly. "I'll keep you informed," she said.

Sam nodded in return, the light tread of her boots fading quickly up the passageway.

---  
**Elcor – Resistance Homeworld**

It was still raining heavily, but Teal'c had grown accustomed the steady downpour many months before. He stood outside and let the clean water from the heavens pour over him, watching as it mixed the blood and mud and washed it into the soil until he couldn't see where the blood ended and the earth began.

"How is Ishta?" Bra'tac asked quietly, also staring at the blood-soaked ground.

"She will recover," Teal'c said. "The Tok'ra have healed her, but she is still weak and will not regain her strength for a while yet."

"There could still be traitors among us," Bra'tac stated.

"I am aware," Teal'c agreed. "We must leave this world soon."

"What of the Tok'ra?" Bra'tac asked.

"We will not win this war alone, Bra'tac."

"They could be compromised."

"As could we."

"What are you thinking, Teal'c?" Bra'tac asked warily.

"O'Neill is right," Teal'c said.

"You will give him the poison." It was not a question.

"Yes," Teal'c said. "It is hard to believe, but not all our brother's would fight with us if given the choice, Bra'tac. They have been given a choice, and they have chosen their side."

"There is no honour in this, Teal'c."

"There is no honour in serving the Goa'uld and dying for a false god," Teal'c responded. "It is war, Bra'tac, and the only way which we will gather more followers is to prove we are right and we will win. This will help turn the tide in our favour."

"I pray you are right, my friend," Bra'tac said quietly. "It is a large sacrifice to make if it proves to be wrong."

Teal'c nodded.

As though it were timed, O'Neill appeared in the doorway of what was once Teal'c's hut. Teal'c watched the Tau'ri as he walked toward them, noting the stiffness of his movements and the strain on his face.

"O'Neill is growing old," Bra'tac said softly.

"Before his time," Teal'c agreed, still watching. "But he is alive, Bra'tac, and a powerful ally to have. He is also a friend."

Bra'tac didn't reply, and as O'Neill picked his way toward them, Teal'c was again struck by relief and awe that O'Neill was alive. Bra'tac touched his arm as O'Neill approached, and disappeared into a tent to get the poison.

"Doesn't the rain ever stop in this place?" O'Neill demanded. If O'Neill was growing old, his apparent sense of humour and wit had not changed at all.

"No," Teal'c said simply. "Maybourne and the girl, Bek?" 

"Maybourne's going to be ok, apparently," O'Neill said, grimacing in distaste. "He hasn't woken up yet, but the Tok'ra have done their stuff and pronounced him well on the way to healing. Bek is… Bek is ok," he finished.

"Garshaw?"

A small smile touched O'Neill's lips but it was bitter and mocking. "Quiet," he said simply.

Teal'c nodded. "The Tok'ra will spare you a Tel'tac," he said, "and we will give you the poison."

O'Neill's eyes widened, and he stared at them. "Teal'c?"

"Not all our brother's will join us in our fight, O'Neill. Those who do not are the enemy," he said.

O'Neill nodded. "Thank you, Teal'c."

Teal'c nodded again. "Bra'tac is retrieving the poison," he said. "The Tok'ra Tel'tac is situated in those trees, there. Garshaw will agree to let you take the Tel'tac – it will be the easiest and quickest."

"Hey, Teal'c?" O'Neill said hesitantly. Teal'c raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. "When this is over and we've saved Earth again, come and have dinner with us one night."

"As long as I do not have to go fishing," Teal'c agreed.

O'Neill grinned, and nodded. "Thanks, T. I owe you one."

"No," Teal'c said. "You are a friend, O'Neill, and it is enough to see that you are alive."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me!" O'Neill warned.

"I will not."

"Good. Oh, how is Ishta?"

"Ishta is recovering," Teal'c said.

"She will bear many sons yet," Bra'tac added wickedly as he reappeared, and Teal'c was almost ashamed to feel heat on his cheeks.

O'Neill merely grinned.

"Here, O'Neill," Bra'tac said solemnly, holding out a small package wrapped in an oilskin cloth. "Take care."

"Good luck, O'Neill," Teal'c added quietly.

O'Neill nodded, and swallowed. "Thanks, Teal'c. Bra'tac."

With a final salute and smile, O'Neill turned and walked back to the dwelling where Maybourne and Garshaw were recovering.

Bra'tac and Teal'c were silent as the rain continued to fall, and Teal'c felt a small smile touch his lips. "I will not be sorry to see the end of the rain when we leave this world," he said.

Bra'tac chuckled. "You are right, my friend."

---  
**Nuclear Research Facility**

Her ribs ached and burnt with pain each time she moved, but she knew they weren't broken. Only bruised. Sam drew a deep breath in slowly, savouring the splintering pain as it lanced jaggedly down her right side. Pain. It felt real and alive and so much better than the empty grayness of square cells and routine and shower cubicles with cold water and prying eyes.

It felt like a distant memory now, she thought as she lay on her stomach in the dirt with a P-90 in her hands and grenades at her side. It felt like a bad dream which still bothered her with lingering images she couldn't quite recall but which had disturbed her so deeply and profoundly she felt compelled to do something.

Between the cracked concrete pillars and encroaching forest, she could see glimpses of the sky. It was burning a hazy orange, thick clouds with bruised purple shadows hanging ominously. She hadn't seen a sunset in a long, long time, and she stared up at it silently.

Slowly the orange faded red and then purple until it was a deep velvet blue and the clouds were black and dark, hiding the cold star studs in from her sight.

"Think it's going to rain?" Paul Davis asked next to her, his voice unnaturally loud despite whispering.

The air crackled with electricity and anticipation; waiting. For what?

"Maybe," she said, nodding. Her head throbbed with the movement, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"You okay?" Davis questioned.

"Fine," she said shortly.

Fine. She was always fine.

Her fingers tensed on the P-90 as a dark object swooped like a bat across the velvet sky. "Here they come," she whispered. She licked her lips anxiously. They were dry and cracked and she imagined she could still taste the salt of his skin faintly, and she felt a sudden pang of regret at what they'd done.

Why had they done it?

She wasn't sure, and she wondered if whatever had broken inside her could possibly be fixed.

"Boys, the snakes are landing," Davis whispered into his radio. "Maintain radio silence for now; we don't want to give away our positions yet."

Her breathing sounded loud and forced in the sudden silence around the facility. A gentle hum that rose in pitch and volume indicated the arrival of several death gliders; she watched them swoop past and disappear into the dark sky around them.

"Here we go," Davis whispered next to her.

And in a sudden moment of clarity, Sam realised that she didn't want to die broken and bitter with regrets.

---


	15. Chapter 15

---  
**  
PART FIFTEEN**

---  
**Tel'tac**

She felt distant from her body; as though she was a spectator and not completely in control of her movements. She wasn't in control, she realised dimly.

_I can let you have control,_ a voice whispered, cool and silken against her thoughts, _but I am not certain you would be able to fly the Tel'tac yet._

Bek imagined that if she was in control, she would have shuddered. As it was, she felt trapped. Claustrophobic. Suddenly realising just how helpless she could be.

"Colonel O'Neill," she heard herself say, but her voice was rough and hoarse, "I need you to pilot for a time."

"Everything okay?" Jack asked.

Again, she felt her lips move but knew she hadn't thought or formed the words herself. "We just need some time."

She saw suspicion and bitter knowledge glint in Jack's eyes, and she knew why he had tried to stop her.

_No,_ the voice – Garshaw, she remembered – said, _no, it is different with us._

Her limbs folded carefully under her, and she was seated on the cold floor of the Tel'tac, the walls solid behind her and the floor thrumming comfortingly underneath. With a rush, she could feel again, and her arms and legs were her own.

"Jack?" she whispered, her voice a croak.

"You ok, Bek?" he called back to her from the front of the ship, and she was surprised to hear a touch of concern on his voice.

"I… yeah. I think so," she replied, closing her eyes and focusing on her breathing. In and out, in and out. The air tasted cool and dry. Artificially recycled. Slightly stale. She shivered, and wrapped her arms around her knees, trying hard to focus on everything and anything except the thing in her head. The presence in her mind. The sensation that there was something else in her head.

Was this what a schizophrenic felt like? Two people in one brain?

_You are not crazy, or insane, Rebekah._

"Bek," she snapped, "my name is Bek."

Something like a wave of bemusement rolled through her, and Bek felt a frission of real annoyance. Even the goddamn snake thing was patronising her as though she was only a child.

_But you are only a child,_ it pointed out.

"Which mean's you're a relic," she returned sharply.

At the front of the ship, she heard a bark of dry laughter from Jack, and across from her the Russian scientist, Svetlana, was watching her curiously. Almost warily.

No one had ever looked at her like that before, Bek realised, as though she was something to be scared of. Something to fear.

_They don't fear you,_ Garshaw said, _they fear what you have become. What I am_.

And what have I become? Bek wondered.

_More than what you were._

Bek bit her lip, glanced at Svetlana again who avoided her questioning gaze, and then climbed unsteadily to her feet. She felt strange; uncoordinated. As though she was tipsy but she hadn't drunk anything.

Jack – or O'Neill, as Garshaw thought of him – glanced at her once when she came to stand next to him, but his attention was focused on the controls in front of him.

Chart, radar, rings, communiocation, hyperdr-

She snapped her eyes shut and tried to ignore the fact that she knew what the controls did and operated, without being told.

"Arguing?" Jack asked mildly, and there was underlying tone of humour to his question.

"No," Bek said, opening her eyes and staring ahead and staring ahead. It was beautiful, she thought, flying through space. More colourful than she had imagined it would be, and a lot emptier. More quiet than she would have thought. She remembered once shortly after she'd met Cassie, the two of them had gone to stay at a cabin in Minnesota. They'd sat on the jetty late that night, talking, and when they'd fallen quiet the world had been silent. Up to now, she hadn't heard anything more silent.

"You were a host, weren't you?" she asked.

He stiffened next to her, but didn't answer.

"Garshaw says it was different for you," Bek pressed, despite the caution coming from Garshaw. It felt good to ignore the Tok'ra; to defy her.

He shrugged, and stared ahead but she had the feeling he wasn't really watching what he was doing anymore.

"It feels strange," she said at last.

"You regretting it?"

"I…I don't know," she admitted. "She's arrogant and patronising and condescending but at the same time…"

"At the same time, what?"

Bek felt her lip quirk, and she was sure why she found it so amusing but she did. "She reminds me of my grandmother."

His eyebrows lifted and he looked at her incredulously. "Your grandmother?"

"Yes. She calls me Rebekah."

"You don't have to stay like this, Bek," he said quietly. "You had no idea what you were getting into."

"I know," she said. "I still don't know what I'm getting into," she added.

"No one ever knows what they're getting into," he said.

"My mom died when my youngest sister was born. My dad's mother, my grandmother, helped him to raise us. She died last year – she had cancer."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

While Bek had no doubt he meant the sympathy, it was distant and hollow, as though he had forgotten the grief and pain that came with loss.

_Or perhaps he has learnt to distance himself from it_, Garshaw suggested.

"Major Carter – Sam – that was her Dad on the planet, wasn't it? Jacob?"

"Yes."

And Bek knew that he had been dying, and the Tok'ra Selmac was his last choice.

_Jacob is happy with Selmak_, Garshaw whispered. _It takes time, Rebekah, but it is possible to be content as a Tok'ra_.

"They aren't all bad," she said quietly. She wasn't sure she knew what she meant by the words, but she felt Garshaw's satisfaction and saw Jack give a barely perceptible nod of his head. "Garshaw wants to know where Jacob is?"

"I wouldn't let him come – the poison obviously isn't a joke and I won't let him risk it."

Yet, Jack was willing to let Garshaw risk her life.

_No,_ the Tok'ra disagreed gently. _I would not let him take the Tel'tac unless I accompanied him._

Bek watched Jack for a few seconds, wincing internally at his constant grimace of pain and tension. _He is tired and worn, but he will not stop_, Garshaw murmured. A fleeting touch of admiration and respect, and the Tok'ra retreated.

"Take a seat, Jack. We'll drive."

He looked as though he would protest, but he surprised her and nodded, stepping back to let her take over.

_Thank you, Garshaw,_ Bek said, her fingers touching the controls lightly.

_No, it is I who should thank you, Rebekah._

You're risking your life for us.

Without you, I would not be alive now. Your mission is mine for the time being.

Bek found herself smiling, and for the first time in days she felt it was okay, that maybe there was a way to fix everything.

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

The first wave of Jaffa was half-hearted. Obviously expecting the Tau'ri to be disheartened and ready to admit defeat, the ground forces moved almost sluggishly and with no thought to stealth or the possibility of ambush.

It took Paul's squad five minutes to dispose of them with several well placed claymores, Tom acting as sniper and Andrews manning the heavy artillery. In the aftermath of the vicious bloodbath, the dark world was strangely silent. Even the bugs seemed to be scared away by the gunfire, though Paul new this was just fanciful hoping on his part and had more to do with dumb luck than anything they actually did.

A canteen was passed around, and Paul praised their work quietly on the small radios, still alert for any movement in the woods around them.

"I'm going to see if I can rig a shield over us," Carter whispered in the dark, barely visible next to him as heavy clouds blotted out the pale moonlight. Paul hoped to God it would rain soon because he had a suspicion the bugs would be hampered in heavy rainfall.

"Ok," Paul agreed, and then instructed Tom and Samuels to lay another round of claymores. He almost wished Bek and Cass were still around, because at they could have helped by hauling supplies and artillery around. As it stood, it was up to him and Andrews to retrieve more from their supplies.

They worked quickly and quietly in the dark, almost soundless shadows as the air grew thicker and heavier and the rough material of his BDUs chafed more than he'd thought possible. Within fifteen minutes they were ready for a second wave, but there was no sign of Jaffa – either air or ground troops.

"I don't like this," he whispered to Samuels who was crouching next to him, breathing heavily through his nose in what was probably a combination of fear, adrenalin and exhaustion. "It's too quiet."

The only advantage to their entire situation, Paul thought, was the facility they were defending - a clear area of approximately fifty metres extended all around the buildings, fringed by the light woodlands. It was easy to defend because they had clear targets as their enemy approached. Paul stared searchingly into the inky night ahead of them, straining to catch a glimpse of movement. Other than Carter shuffling around with small pieces of equipment, nothing moved except the air.

Paul blinked. The air was moving?

Next to him Samuels gasped and moved as Paul's fingers tightened on his weapon. Carter stopped moving too, frozen and exposed in an open patch of grass between the trees.

"Get undercover, Carter," Paul ordered quietly, even though there was no way she could hear him. Still, the woman knew what she was doing and slowly seemed to melt back into the darker shadows.

Again, the air rippled, and as a sudden rumble of thunder rolled ominously across the sky, it seemed to tear and twist and suddenly in front of them, on their nice, clean shooting range, a Goa'uld Tel'tac appeared.

Paul closed his eyes and bit on his lip, struggling to keep a small flicker of hope and defiance burning inside him. But it was so hard when everything went so horribly wrong.

---  
**Tel'tac**

Saturn was bigger and brighter than she had anticipated. And the rings… Bek stared at them with awe, but the Tel'tac hurtled past and soon she saw a small speck which Garshaw informed her was Earth. She watched as her planet grew bigger and brighter, and slowly turned blue and green and white. Soon she could discern oceans and continents, and as they passed through the atmosphere she was horrified by the darkness of the North American Continent – hardly any lights fought against the night sky.

_The cities would be under attack by the Goa'uld,_ Garshaw said. _There are fires burning,_ the Tok'ra added, but it was unnecessary because already Bek could distinguish between the few lights still shining defiantly and the red glow of fires burning without opposition.

It was almost too soon, and suddenly they were flying through thick clouds and watching as dark mountains appeared beneath them, quickly rolling into darkened fields and forests Bek couldn't see. 

"There," Jack whispered from next to her, and Bek didn't even think as her hands guided the alien vessel down carefully onto the ground in front of the facility she'd left only hours – or was it days? – before.

"I don't see anyone," Bek whispered even though there was on need.

"They're there," Jack said, sounding distracted. "I think I saw Carter. Uncloak the ship, Bek."

She hadn't realised the ship was cloaked, but Garshaw nudged her gently and her fingers performed the requested task easily.

Bek walked behind Jack and Svetlana as they exited the Tel'tac and then paused a few steps from the ship. There was a rustle of movement from the buildings ahead of them, and the silence was broken by a hesitant "Colonel?" from the trees off to one side.

"Carter?" Jack responded cautiously.

"Oh, thank God something went fucking _right_ for a change," someone else – Bek thought it was Paul Davis – exclaimed loudly from the buildings shadows. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am it's you, Colonel."

"Good to see you all too," Jack agreed as several dark forms appeared from various positions around the Tel'tac. It took Bek several seconds to realise they were dark because black paint covered their faces, and other than the whites of their eyes they appeared almost invisible in the dark.

A roll of thunder growled across the sky, and Bek looked up briefly.

"How did it go?" Samuels asked. "I'm assuming you found someone."

"The Asgard won't help," Jack said bluntly, "but Thor took us to the Tok'ra. They've been underground, with the Jaffa rebels. They've given us something to help fight the Jaffa, but the bugs are still going to be a problem unless we work out how the Goa'uld planned on stopping them.

"The memory crystals would contain all the information," Bek felt herself saying. "They would be kept either in the main fleet vessel, or if they are in the SGC as you suspect it is possible they are kept there."

A moment of silence followed Bek's short speech, and she fidgeted uncomfortably as everyone stared at her.

"We ran into some trouble on Elcor – the planet where the Jaffa and Tok'ra are."

"The Jaffa and Tok'ra are working together?" Davis asked doubtfully.

"Some of them," Jack agreed. "Maybourne's there – he was hurt pretty bad but Teal'c's looking after him."

"You saw Teal'c?" Sam demanded sharply.

"Yes. He's good, Carter, but he couldn't come back with us."

"Why not?" Samuels demanded. "Where is Walter Davis, and who is the woman?"

"Teal'c would be in danger here, more than he would be able to help, and Walter died in Russia so the rest of us could get out," Jack said shortly.

"Whatever happened can wait," Davis said sharply, "we need all the help we can get against the Jaffa now, Colonel. We've already held one wave back, but they'll be smarter on the second try."

For the first time Bek noticed the bodies heaped under the shadows, and she felt sick again. She would have staggered, if not for Garshaw.

"There's a Goa'uld with you," Sam said sharply.

"No," Jack disagreed. "A Tok'ra. Garshaw. Her host was dying, and Bek volunteered to… to… Carter, you remember Garshaw, don't you?"

"Yes," Sam said faintly, and Bek felt a surge of recognition and almost affection run through the Tok'ra as she acknowledged Sam.

"What's the help you got, O'Neill?" Samuels asked.

"A poison that will kill the Goa'uld symbiote but won't harm humans or hosts – that's why we left Teal'c. If something went wrong, he'd be in trouble."

A flicker of fear shivered through Bek – or was it Garshaw? – but it disappeared quickly.

"We have three vials," Jack was saying. "Atmospheric detonation is going to be the most effective way to use it against the Jaffa, but we need to get them out into the open."

"I think they're only letting a few get infected at a time, to maintain some force until they're all immune," Davis said.

"Well," Jack said, "we're just going to have to find a way to get them all out into the open, aren't we?"

---


	16. Chapter 16

---

**PART SIXTEEN**

---

**Tel'tac**

"We're clear, Samuels!" Davis called through the heavy metal door, banging his fist against it for good measure before stepping back several feet to where Sam and the others were waiting. Several seconds later they heard a muffled thud and the walls seemed to shudder faintly in the shadows.

"That's it," Davis said, and for a few seconds the group was silent.

Sam stared at the quiet walls of the nuclear facility, and hoped to a God she wasn't sure she believed in now – if she ever had – that Janet, Harlowe, Svetlana and Cassie wouldn't be found.

"Decoy's up," Andrews announced as he appeared out of the darkness. "Hopefully the Jaffa will think we've all left."

Davis nodded. "Then I guess the show is the on the road. Everyone ready?"

Sam tightened her grip on the P-90 and nodded with everyone else.

"Let's go then, people," Colonel O'Neill said firmly.

He'd no sooner spoken than a crack of lightening flashed jaggedly across the open sky above them, followed several seconds later by a roll of thunder. The heavens seemed to pause for a second, and then opened in a sheet of water. Wordlessly, the group turned and jogged toward where the Tel'tac was once again cloaked. Sam was slightly amused by the sight of a rainless patch of air in the shape of a Tel'tac. It only lasted momentarily, and was filled in suddenly by the appearance of the solid vessel.

She stepped inside gratefully, rolling her shoulders to try and dislodge the water that had trickled beneath her BDU's onto her skin. It felt cold and wet and she shivered at the sensation. It had been a long time since she'd felt the rain on her skin and smelt the damp of the earth after a downpour. She only hoped she lived long enough so she could smell the freshness again.

"This is going to make things complicated," Bek said, breaking the silence in the Tel'tac as the vessel was once again cloaked and gracefully lifted off the ground under the girl's control. "The rain means we won't be able to have an atmospheric detonation."

"We'll still be able to get into the SGC though," Sam pointed out. "The ventilation system won't be affected."

"True," Bek conceded, "but Garshaw seems to think that once the Jaffa realise the SGC has been attacked they'll come pouring out of the ships and surrounding area, and then we'll have a problem because we won't be able to release the poison."

"Well hopefully it doesn't rain for long," Davis said. "And hopefully we were right about the rain making it hard for the bugs to get around."

Sam didn't feel like being the one to burst the bubble Davis seemed to live in, but there were an awful lot of hopefully's in that sentence, and she wasn't someone willing to trust her luck anymore.

"What do you think, Carter?" the Colonel asked her.

Standing next to Bek, Sam stared out into the dark sky as rain and lightning rattled around them. The Tel'tac was hovering smoothly in the atmosphere, and Sam imagined she could see Cheyenne Mountain below her despite the clouds and rain.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," Sam said finally. "But I don't think this rain is likely to let up anytime soon."

"We should do it," Andrews said. "It's our best shot, right Colonel?"

Sam felt a hand on her arm, and she looked around to the see the Colonel standing next to her. There lines around his eyes and his mouth was pulled tight in a line of tension. He was battered and worn and suddenly Sam was scared. He looked almost beaten, and she'd never known Jack O'Neill to look beaten. She licked her lips.

"We'll do it, sir," she said quietly.

He paused several seconds, staring at her intently and Sam felt horribly uncomfortable under his gaze.

"Okay," he said. "We'll ring you down. Good luck, Major."

She didn't remind him she wasn't a Major anymore. Instead, she readjusted her pack and weapons and nodded her head like the good soldier she was pretending to be.

The impression of the rings were present in the Tel'tac, as in every other Tel'tac Sam had ever been in. She stepped inside its markings and stood close next to Davis and Andrews, feeling their warmth through the dampness of her clothes. And as she waited for the rings to activate, the Colonel watched her silently. She stared back until he vanished in a flash of gold and the empty storage room of the mothership hovering over Cheyenne Mountain materialised in front of her.

God she hoped this worked.

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

Janet was tired. A bone aching tiredness that reminded her she hadn't slept in a long, long time. Not a proper sleep since this entire mess began, she thought tiredly.

Her thumb moved slowly over the back of Cassie's warm hand. On the bed Cassandra moaned briefly, her eyelids fluttering for a second before her body became still again. Janet sighed and pulled her feet up onto the chair she was sitting on, tucking her free hand around her shins and resting her chin on her knees as she looked at her daughter.

"Come on, Cass," she said softly. "Hold on, honey, you need to fight."

Her daughter moved again briefly, but the small movements were constant and had been for hours. Nothing changed; not Cassie's temperature, heart rate or responsiveness.

"How's it going, Janet?" Timothy asked from the shadows of the doorway.

"Still no change," Janet said quietly, not turning to look at him.

"It should have worked by now," he said gently.

"She was further along by the time she got the anti-viral than we anticipated the patients would be, Timothy," Janet pointed out. "It could just take a little longer for it to work."

Or, Janet felt the silent words mocking her, it was already too late for her daughter.

"I'll go and Dr. Markhov and Colonel Samuels know how she's doing," Timothy said, and she heard the quiet tread of his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Janet's fingers tightened around Cassie's hand as her daughter twitched on the bed.

"Come on, Cassie," Janet whispered, squeezing Cassie's fingers. "Come on, sweety. Don't do this to me."

---  
**Goa'uld Mothership**

Paul had spent a lot of time over the years in the SGC. He'd met a lot of aliens, seen a lot of technology and read a lot of reports. Hell, he'd even been captured by aliens once. But he'd never actually been on a Goa'uld mothership, let alone been on a mission inside one.

His footsteps felt unnaturally loud as he followed closely behind Carter, and he was waiting for her to turn around and tell him to stop breathing because he was sure the breath whistling through his airways sounded like a hurricane.

"If I'm right, the intake to the ventilation system is through there. There should be a chute we can drop down, and that will put us right in the heart of the ventilation system," Carter whispered, her voice almost nothing more than a breath of air he seemed to understand.

"How are you going to get out once you're down?" Paul asked.

"Cables," she said bluntly, and Paul felt a blush rise up his cheeks. God, he wasn't cut out for this action crap; he was supposed to be a desk jockey.

"Ready?" Carter asked; Paul, Tom & Andrews nodded their agreement. "Good, let's go."

It had felt too easy from the start, Paul realised as he followed Carter through the door she'd indicated. When the staff blast hit the metalwork next to his head he felt something thick and heavy sink in his insides and his throat turned dry.

"Shit," Carter hissed, spinning around the wall and pressing her back against it; he copied her movements on the opposite side of the doorway.

In the hall, the gunfire and staff blasts continued as Tom and Andrews returned fire from their hiding places behind the ornamental pillars.

"Cover me," Carter hissed, "I'm going down now before it's too late."

Paul didn't watch Carter as she wriggled away from him across the floor. Instead, he pointed his weapon through the doorway and joined the firefight, his P-90 coming to life in his hands. He turned back twice to check on Carter's progress, barely making out her form as she approached a ventilation shaft and disappeared into it through the thick smoke now curling through the room.

A scream from the hallway drew his attention in time to see Tom flung backwards and to the ground as a staff blast struck him in the arm. Paul wasn't sure whether it was his weapon or Andrews' that took out the Jaffa who had shot Tom – perhaps both of them together – but the warrior fell to the ground as four more Jaffa appeared around the corner, staff weapons raised and ready to fight.

Paul was sure Andrews was dead when three more appeared from the other side of the corridor. He opened his mouth and yelled, turning his P-90 onto the approaching Jaffa. The Jaffa slowed, almost staggering, as though they were suddenly uncertain about attacking a few humans soon to be outnumbered. Paul was sure he didn't really look that intimidating, and when they fell to the ground two seconds later, unmoving, he realised it wasn't him. It was the poison.

After the firefight ringing in the hallway moments before, it suddenly felt oppressively quiet.

"What happened?" Andrews asked, staring at the dead Jaffa but not lowering his weapon.

"I think that was the poison," Paul said quietly. A flicker of disgust for the tactics whispered inside him, but he stamped on it ruthlessly. They were the enemy, and there was no other choice.

But still, he thought, where was the honour and the justice in this? It was slaughter without giving the Jaffa a chance to defend themselves. Yet, the bugs…

"Let's go get Carter," Paul decided, shaking his head as though to dislodge the inner conversation. "You okay, Tom?"

"Nothing a little soak in the tub won't cure," Tom grunted.

Andrews helped Tom to his feet, checking the cauterised wound on his comrade's shoulder. "You soak in the tub?"

Paul rolled his eyes at the jarheads, and led the way to the ventilation chute Carter had disappeared down. "Good job, Carter," he yelled down it. "Want a lift out?"

"That'd be nice," he heard Carter call back sarcastically. "Then we can go for a walk, find a crystal and get out of here."

And Paul felt he couldn't agree more.

---  
**Tel'tac**

"The present has been delivered and appears to be well received."

"Copy that," Jack spoke into the communicator. "Get the crystal and get out of there, Carter."

"Will do," Sam responded. "Carter out."

Bek sighed in relief and closed her eyes, smiling as she felt a similar feeling from Garshaw. "Not long now," she whispered, sagging against the wall she was standing next to.

When she opened her eyes, Jack was staring at her. Bek raised her eyebrows. "What?"

"You've changed," he said.

"How would you know?" she demanded. "You don't even know me."

"But you have," he insisted. "A few days ago you couldn't even do CPR without instructions. Now you're standing here organising a military offensive and as relaxed as a cat lying in the sun."

She raised her eyebrows at his description. "A cat lying in the sun?"

He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Ok, bad description. But… I'm right, aren't I?"

She considered his words. "I don't think so," she said finally. "Not really. A little, yes, but I'm still me."

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her confusing speech. A smile tugged at her lips. "I'm still me," she said finally, "but Garshaw is in here too, and she's done this sort of thing so I sort of know what to expect. Sort of."

"You've changed," he said again, and Bek wasn't sure whether he meant it in a good way or a not so good way.

She would have liked to ask him, but something outside the Tel'tac caught her eye. She looked through the clear window where dark storm clouds and rain roiled angrily, searching for what had demanded her attention.

"Oh, god," she whispered suddenly as the clouds beneath her cleared once again for a few seconds, and she viewed the scene below.

After delivering Sam and the others to the mothership, they'd kept the Tel'tac cloaked and let it move with the clouds a short distance away from Cheyenne Mountain. And now, looking at the black fields below before they were once again hidden by rain clouds, Bek felt worried. Very worried.

"They won't stand a chance," Jack said quietly next to her. "Not once someone realises something's happening in the mothership."

Far below, camouflaged in the black night sky, the ground appeared to be moving. Rippling as though it was alive. It was alive, Bek thought, but it wasn't the ground. They were watching a Jaffa army gathering. In the brief moments of light offered by slivers of lightening still cutting through the air, weapons glinted and armour gleamed dully.

With no bugs to sting and cripple the Jaffa – even momentarily - in the rain, they were ready to march. But the rain also meant no atmospheric detonation of the poison. Damn the rain.

"Carter," Jack said quietly into the communicator. "You better hurry. There's an army of Jaffa that could move into the mothership at anytime."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Sam responded. "Very aware. I'll call you back."

There was a strange squeal from the communicator, and Bek felt Garshaw wince. _That does not bode well,_ the Tok'ra murmured quietly.

Jack seemed to freeze over the communicator for two seconds, and then straightened his back. "Hand me the vest, Bek," he ordered, grabbing a weapon – _O'Neill refers to them as zat guns_ – and sifting through a crate of weapons sitting against the bulkhead. "Bek, now!" he snapped.

"Are you insane, Jack?" she demanded, ignoring the vest he had asked for and grabbing his arm instead. "You can't go down there!"

"Why the hell not?" Jack demanded.

"I thought Sam and Janet made it abundantly clear back at the shelter," Bek snapped.

"And you're telling me Carter was in better condition to go down than I was? Fraiser didn't want her going either, damn it, but she went."

"What do you think you're going to accomplish down there?"

He pulled two vials from a protected pouch in the Tel'tac. "I'll take the second vial down and clear out the ship again." Garshaw felt uneasy at the sight of the poison so casually handled, when it had the potential to kill her instantly. 

"Then what?" Bek asked, ignoring the Tok'ra's concern. "They'll just keep coming in fresh from outside. It won't accomplish anything except wasting that vial, Jack."

"It'll buy them some time," Jack said, snatching the vest himself and shrugging into it. He grimaced in pain, his movements strained and cautious.

"You're in no condition to do it, Jack! Look at you, you can hardly move as it is!"

He stopped and looked at her, an emotion in his eyes she struggled to identify. "It's the only chance they have. It's the only chance we have, Bek," he said quietly. "We need that crystal if we ever want to live on this planet again."

It was fear in his eyes, Bek realised. The man was terrified.

"I'll go," she whispered.

"You can't," he said gently. "Garshaw will die the instant this stuff is released. We need you here, to fly the ship and release the poison the minute the rain lets up even for a minute."

She didn't want him to go, and neither did Garshaw.

"I have to go," he said, as though reading her thoughts. "I can't not go."

Only when he positioned himself in the center of the rings, waiting for her to transport him to his death, did she realise he wasn't scared of dying or fighting or killing. He was scared of losing something, and Bek had a relatively good idea of what it was he was so scared of losing.

When the Tel'tac was back in position, she turned to look at him one last time before activating the transporter. He lifted a hand in an odd, farewell sort of wave, and disappeared in the flash of light that was now familiar to her.

The clouds were lifting, Bek thought as she gazed out the window down onto the dark landscape, and she hoped the rain would soon end. And then she'd try and figure out just how exactly she was supposed to release the poison now that Jack wasn't here to do the honours.

---


	17. Chapter 17

---

**PART SEVENTEEN**

---

**Goa'uld Mothership**

Sam had been in a lot of bad situations in her life, impossible situations and moments where the odds were piled so high against her that she wondered, briefly, just how exactly she'd managed to make it this far in life. She punched viciously at a key pad next to a door, barely refraining from screaming in frustration when the door stubbornly refused to open.

"Carter," Davis hissed next to her, "Carter, do something!"

"I'm trying!" she snapped angrily, jamming her fingers over the keys once again.

Nothing. The sequence refused to activate the doors.

"Can't you just rewire it or something?" Davis demanded. "Re-route the power?"

She stared at him with disdain, aware that scant seconds were trickling past as she took the time to show him just how stupid she thought his suggestion was. "I don't need to re-route the power, I just need to alter the sequence of activation. But that still takes time, Davis, and time is something that we don't really have right now."

"We'd have more if you stopped staring at me and just did it!" Davis snapped in response.

Sam thought she heard Andrews or Tom stifle a snicker, but she ignored it. "Get some cover ready," she said instead, and pulled out a small screwdriver which she used to pry the cover off the small circuit board just beneath the control panel.

The thing about technology, Sam mused as she fiddled with the crystals, was that no matter how advanced it was, there was always a control panel. Always.

"How's it going?" Davis demanded.

"It would go faster if you stopped talking!" she muttered, switching another crystal. "The systems are different to what they were three years ago."

"Technological evolution?" Davis guessed.

"I'd say more to stop what I'm doing right now," she said.

From the hall they heard the distinct sound of Jaffa armour.

"Fuck," Davis groaned. "How can they be here already?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," Sam muttered. "Get ready to shoot – wait! I've got it!"

A second later the doors hissed open. Sam only wasted two seconds jamming the control panel cover back on before she grabbed her screwdriver and followed the others through the opening. The door slid shut silently behind them, and Sam tried to calm her beating heart.

The ship was rocking, she thought for a minute, before she realised it was her head spinning and not her surroundings. She rested her hand on the bulkhead for a second, steading her breathing and squeezing her eyes shut.

"You okay?" Davis asked quietly.

"Fine," she murmured, forcing her eyes open and looking at him. He seemed to sway for a few seconds, and bright sparks burst over her vision as the steady burning in her chest and thumping in her head seemed to swell before settling down again. "Okay. I'm okay now," she said, blinking once to clear her vision.

Davis was still watching her as though she had sprouted another head. She glared at him, daring him to push the matter further.

The man obviously valued his life. "Which way now, Carter?"

"Bridge is that way," she said, pointing to their left. "We're almost there."

"I'm more worried about what we're going to do once we are there," Andrews grunted, and Sam pretended not to hear. She didn't want to think about that at this point in time, not when it took everything in her to ignore the agony of moving, let alone breathing and running and carrying a P-90.

Half jogging past the fallen bodies of Jaffa was an uneasy experience; she half expected them to jump up with their staff weapons firing, yelling 'Surprise!' The closer they got to the bridge, the more dead Jaffa they encountered.

The door to the bridge was, unsurprisingly, shut, and once again refused to respond to her commands to open. This time, however, there was no handy control panel and the faint echo of marching Jaffa wandered wispily up the long passage to them.

"What now?" Davis asked quietly, staring at her with eyes that seemed too big for his face.

"We pry it open," she said after a few seconds deliberation, pulling her screwdriver out of her pocket again. She was gratified to see Andrews and Tom position themselves behind bulkheads for protection, their weapons ready for any Jaffa that managed to reach them.

Sam carefully tried to wedge the flat head of her tool into the thin crack left by the shut doors. The metal head scratched and scraped against the doors, but it refused to find purchase against the barriers.

"You don't wear a hair pin, do you?" Davis asked almost hopefully.

"God no," she said, the brief bark of dry laughter escaping before the stabbing of pain in her chest forced her to be quiet.

"Just as well I have a penknife," he said breezily, producing the small object form a pocket.

"That would have been handy a long time ago, Davis," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"But you were doing so well with that screwdriver," he shrugged, offering her a half smile before nudging her out of the way.

The sharp point of the knife slipped into the small crack, and Davis grunted as he forced the rest of the knife in until it was resting with its hilt against the doors. "Can you get your screwdriver get in there now?"

Sam tried again, grinning with relief when the tip worked itself in just above the knife. She pushed against it, forcing it in a little deeper. Davis had produced a larger knife while she was busy with her screwdriver, and he pushed that into the crack too, forcing it open almost a quarter of an inch.

"Ready?" he asked, wrapping both hands around the hilt of his larger knife.

Sam nodded, gripping the screwdriver tightly. Together, they pulled on their respective tools, forcing the doors to give another two inches. The pain in Sam's chest flared at the effort, and she grunted in pain, her grip on her screwdriver slipping.

"I can't hold it!" Davis muttered, his face turning red with effort.

She didn't stop to think; she jammed a hand into the large slit just as Davis' knife snapped under the strain. The doors snapped shut on her arm, and she couldn't stop the short scream of pain from bursting free as the doors crushed her bones. But the doors didn't shut completely – her arm kept a small slit just wide enough for Davis and Andrews to get their hands in as well. Together, the two men pried the doors open for Sam to pull her battered limb out, and then they forced the doors open further, allowing Sam and Tom to slip through before they jumped back and allowed the doors to snap shut again.

"That was too damn close," Tom muttered, his face shining with damp perspiration and pain.

"How is your arm, Carter?" Davis asked quietly.

Sam moaned in pain, her knees buckling beneath her. It was on fire, she thought, watching her vision dance and flares of light bloom beneath her eyelids. Fire and ice and they throbbed with each surge of her heart. She was dimly aware of Davis manipulating her wrist, but she couldn't hear what he said or feel what he did. The world spun crazily on its axis and she felt pain rolling over her in an empty cloud of oblivion.

---  
**Nuclear Research Facility**

Cassandra whimpered on the small cot, her skin hot and damp beneath Janet's hand.

"Who is this girl?" Dr. Markhov asked quietly.

"My daughter," Janet said almost reverently as her fingers traced the line of Cassie's forehead and smoothed the sweat dampened hair back from her face. "Cassandra."

"Dr. Harlowe said he injected her with a possible anti-viral, but that it appears to have little effect."

"She's deteriorating," Janet said softly, the whispered words burning something inside her more sharply than she'd believed possible, "but not as fast as she should be. It's something at least."

"How did she get stung?"

"She was helping the Colonel with a diversion, so he could get to Russia."

The silence in the room felt stifling, almost as though the heat of Cassandra's body turned the air hot and thick.

"She is very young," Svetlana observed.

Too young, Janet thought, closing her eyes and wrapping her fingers around Cassandra's hand. "Yes," Janet agreed. But Cassie was old too; older than Janet because she'd seen her world die. And now, Janet thought, she would be old like her daughter too.

"Dr. Fraiser?" Samuels asked from the door, his voice hesitant. It was good he was hesitant, Janet thought coldly; this man had helped in the downfall and the horror now facing Cassandra.

"What do you want?"

"I'm going to need your assistance on the upper levels. I think the Jaffa foot soldiers are moving in again, and we need to detonate the claymores and other defences Paul set up for us."

Janet nodded reluctantly. "I'll be there," she said.

"Now, please," Samuels insisted.

"I said I'll be there," she said sharply, anger flaring white hot. But it withered and faded and left only empty grief and despair. She kissed Cassandra's forehead gently, the skin hot and damp beneath her lips.

"Hold on, Cassie," she whispered, squeezing her daughter's hand one last time. "You just need to hold on, sweetheart."

Cassandra didn't move.

Janet bit her lip and let go, stepping back.

Outside the small room the air felt too cold and heavy and quiet.

---  
**Goa'uld Mothership**

"Carter, do you read me?" Jack demanded into the Tok'ra communicator. Pressed against an engraved wall with his one knee digging into the hard floor, he remembered why it was such a bad idea for him to be attempting this.

"Damn it, Carter, answer me!" he snapped, carefully shifting his weight around and trying to ignore the burning in his upper arm. He had no doubt the staff blast wound from Cimmeria was infected now; the constant heat radiating down his arm almost made him wish he had told Fraiser about his most recent injury and allowed her to give him an antibiotic shot. Of course, he always did have too much pride and not enough sense for things like that.

"Carter, it's O'Neill. Do you read me?"

His communicator spluttered to life in his hand. "Colonel O'Neill?"

"You're not Carter," he said baldly, relief to hear someone but concerned that it wasn't Carter.

"No, sir, I'm not," a man said, and if Jack wasn't so sore and old he might have found a smile touching his lips at the small touch of sarcasm.

"Well, where is Carter and who are you?"

"It's Paul Davis, Colonel," Davis identified himself, "and we're in the control room."

"What's taking so long?"

"It took us a while to get in, sir, and then Carter…"

"And then Carter what?"

"She got her arm caught in a door," Davis said. "She's hurt pretty bad. And I don't think she's recovered from her 'chute before."

"Where is she, Davis?"

"She's currently lying unconscious on the floor. Andrews is trying to bring her round because we need her to get the crystals, but he's not having much luck. We have no idea which ones they are or if they're even the rights ones."

"Give me ten minutes," Jack said.

"Sir?"

"I said give me ten minutes. Let me know if she comes round before I get there."

"Before you get here?"

"Davis, would you stop repeating everything I say?" Jack complained, creeping around the corner. "Maintain radio silence for the next five minutes – I need to get around some of the patrols."

And he turned his communicator off before carefully rounding the next corner.

---  
**Tel'tac**

The communicators remained ominously silent after Jack's request for silence, and Bek wasn't sure whether she preferred the tense, vivid recounting of what was happening and their fearful voices, or the dead silence that told her nothing.

_It is better when they communicate,_ Garshaw said gently, _that way we at least know they are alive._

Bek nodded absently in agreement, even though Garshaw couldn't exactly see the nod. She frowned. "Garshaw, does it look like the rain's lessening?"

They peered out the window together. _Perhaps,_ Garshaw said finally, _or perhaps it is just the coming dawn that gives the illusion of a lessening in the downpour._

Bek hadn't realised it was dawn, but the minute the Tok'ra pointed it out she realised the steady dimming of the sky from ink black to dove grey was due to a soft smudge of light appearing in the east.

"Well, I hope it stops raining too," she said.

Garshaw remained silent, and suddenly Bek felt as though even the air itself was oppressive around her.

---


	18. Chapter 18

---

**PART EIGHTEEN**

---

**Goa'uld Mothership**

"Come on, Carter," Paul hissed, pushing Andrews out of the way and tapping the unconscious woman's cheeks with desperate hands. She remained unmoving, her breathing shallow. Davis tapped harder, his fingers stinging as he slapped at her skin. 

A restraining hand grabbed Paul's wrist, stilling his movements. "How about contacting the Tok'ra girl – Bek – and seeing what the Tok'ra thinks?" Andrews suggested.

Paul took a quick breath, and nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly, rubbing tiredly at his forehead. "I… What's that?"

A rattle, muffled by walls and distance, bounced loosely around the room.

"Sounds like gunfire," Tom said, pressing his head against the shut doors. "Do you think…?"

"O'Neill can't be that stupid," Paul muttered. "Can he? Taking on a patrol by himself in his condition is ludicrous."

The rattling continued steadily. A second later their communicators sprang into life. "Damn it, Davis, open the door!"

Without waiting for Paul's approval Tom, who was closest to the door, hit the small control pad and the door slid open easily. Jack O'Neill almost fell into the room, his P-90 still firing, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Jaffa hammering against it.

"Well," O'Neill wheezed, lowering the weapon and resting his hands on his knees, "wasn't that fun."

"You are crazy," Paul muttered. "How did you get through them?"

O'Neill barely shrugged. "I have no idea."

"You okay, sir?" Tom asked, causing Paul to study O'Neill. The man was sweating heavily, his face pale and pulled into a grimace of pain.

"Fine," O'Neill said abruptly, but he didn't change position or stop fighting for air. "Carter?"

"She's still out, Colonel," Paul said as O'Neill finally approached, "and I don't want to sound like I don't care but we really need to get what we came for and get out of here. We were just about to call Garshaw and find out what we needed to get."

"No need," O'Neill said after checking Carter's pulse and touching her forehead, "I'll get it."

"You?" Paul couldn't stop the question before it popped out. "With all due respect, Colonel, I didn't think you knew how the systems worked."

"I didn't," O'Neill said bluntly. "I do now. Give me a few minutes."

Paul watched as O'Neill lit up the control panels with ease, and then pulled apparently random crystals out while punching in sequences into the boards. It took less than five minutes, and O'Neill turned back to them, pocketing two flat strips which looked like clear pieces of glass.

"I sent copies up to Bek in the Tel'tac, so if something happens to these there is a backup."

"What do we do now?" Andrews asked. "How do we get out? The minute we open those doors the Jaffa will be all over us. Even if we don't open the doors, they'll still be all over us in a few minutes."

"There aren't that many on board," O'Neill said, replacing the clip on his P-90. "I only saw two patrols; I think they're spooked because everyone on this ship died. Bek, you there?" he asked into the communicator.

"Yes, Jack."

"How's the weather looking?"

"It's easing up," she said, "the rain should stop in a few minutes but I don't know how long it will stay stopped."

"The minute it stops you let that poison go."

"What about all of you?" 

"It won't hurt us. We're going to get back to you in a few minutes, hopefully, but we can't risk more Jaffa boarding the ship because we won't be able to hold them."

"I'll let you know if I see a big movement," she agreed. "Sun's coming up, it's getting lighter, so it's easier to see."

"Thanks Bek. Are we ready, gentlemen?"

"You just expect us to blast our way out of here?" Paul demanded incredulously. "Colonel, have you lost your mind? There are two of us uninjured, one unconscious and two of you who can barely run by yourselves."

"I'm capable of running by myself," O'Neill said coolly, lifting his P-90. "And I'm not suggesting we blast our way out. I have one of these." He pulled a familiar looking vial out of his flack jacket and held it up for Paul to see.

"The poison."

"Exactly. We let them open the door, and stay out of sight. The minute there are enough of them in here, we loose it and run like hell."

"This won't take care of all the Jaffa though; it won't spread far enough or stay viable long enough because there's limited air movement," Paul pointed out.

"I know. But I can try to only release a small amount. There are only a few Jaffa on board at this stage anyway, Davis, and if we run we might make it."

"Might," Paul muttered beneath his breath. "Andrews, are you good to take Carter?"

Andrews nodded, carefully hoisting the unconscious woman over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Without wasting time, they all moved behind a bulkhead where they wouldn't be in direct line of sight or fire when the Jaffa broke through the doors. 

Paul stuck his head around the wall, watching the doors. Nothing happened for almost two minutes, but then they started to move a little. A few seconds later something appeared in the widening crack between them, and Paul tightened his finger around the trigger of the P-90.

"Here they come," he whispered.

The door seemed to burst open, but unexpectedly, the Jaffa hung back.

"What are they doing?" O'Neill demanded.

"Taking their time," Paul said. He'd no sooner spoken than four Jaffa entered, staff weapons held ready. "Hold on, they're here."

Two more followed the first four, and then Paul opened fire. The first two dropped beneath the bullets spitting from his weapon as more Jaffa entered, staff weapons firing at their position. Another Jaffa fell, and no more entered.

"Now!" Paul yelled as a staff blast ricocheted off the wall next to his head, his face seared with heat and sudden burning. "Now!"

He felt another staff blast connecting to the wall, and then abruptly, they stopped. When Paul looked again, the remaining Jaffa were all lying on the floor, unmoving. He looked at O'Neill – the man was standing with his finger jammed over the broken vial, shrugging.

"I don't know if there's any left," O'Neill said.

"Doesn't matter, let's go!"

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

"You ready?" Samuels asked brusquely, checking a clip with surprising efficiency before sliding it into position.

"I'm ready," she said, readying her own weapon. It stood to reason he was comfortable with weapons, she reasoned, because he was in the Air Force.

The thick concrete of the walls stopped noise from penetrating down the sublevels where they were sitting, but they didn't stop a gentle shudder of explosions from travelling down to them. Janet rested her hand against the wall, wincing as it rumbled distantly beneath her hand.

"I'm fairly certain they've breached," Samuels said. "I'm going to turn the light off."

She nodded, her mouth turning dry as the tunnel plunged into darkness. Janet wasn't a coward – she had earned commendations for bravery during her time – but she just didn't like the complete darkness pressing down around.

There was a muffled roll of thunder and the wall beneath her hand shook a little harder than she was used to. Something brushed against her face, and she realised it was dust from the roof disturbed by explosions further up. She swallowed roughly, clutching her handgun tightly in her sweaty hands.

"If these guys are here, underground, they probably won't be affected by the poison," she whispered to Samuels.

"Then we better hope to God Paul Davis gets back here as soon as they've delivered the package."

Janet didn't want to say they should have already been back. She also didn't wan to point out that in the rain it was doubtful the poison would be released. She was fairly certain Samuels knew all this already, and decided it probably wouldn't do to think the worst all the time.

Still, they should have been back already.

The walls rumbled again, and this time she heard the distant explosions. Muffled, muted and dulled by the concrete still between them, the fact that she could now hear them was disturbing.

"They got through that awfully quickly," she whispered.

"Too quickly," Samuels agreed.

Janet found herself surprised that she was with Samuels of all people, this situation, and working with him for a common goal.

"Maybe we should-" she cut her sentence off with a half scream of fear as something grabbed her shoulder, bony fingers digging into her flesh.

Samuels turned his light on instantly, the small beam flooding the tunnel with a dim glow. "What? Dr. Markhov, what are you doing here?" he demanded.

Janet flushed with embarrassment and tried to get her heart rate back under control again. Standing in the beam of Samuels' light was Svetlana Markhov. Her face was pale under dirt and dust, and clothing which Janet was sure had once been elegant was ripped.

"I wanted to help," the Russian whispered, her voice dusty.

Janet glanced over at Samuels for his opinion – surprising herself again – and found herself agreeing when he nodded. "We could use the help," she said thankfully. "Do you know how to use one of these?" she asked, thrusting the P-90 towards the woman.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I did work at a military operation." As though to prove Janet right she checked the clip and put it back in a few easy movements.

"Good," Janet said, relieved. "Samuels, I think you should fall back and cover us. With your leg you're going to have a disadvantage when we have to fall back."

The walls rattled again, and flakes of concrete spun through the air to land on a dirty floor. "I don't think it's going to be much longer."

---  
**Tel'tac**

"How are you going down there, Jack?" Bek demanded into the communicator.

"A little busy!" Jack responded after a minute of silence. "How about you?"

"Oh, you know, just hanging out waiting for the rain to stop."

"Lovely." She could almost picture the grimace on his face. "That gonna happen anytime soon?"

"It's still drizzling."

"We're almost at the rings, Bek, but there are more Jaffa than we anticipated."

"I'm watching them get onboard," she replied.

"Just get ready to get us out of here."

_The rain is stopping,_ Garshaw said. _It is time._

Time. 

Bek licked her lips. "Garshaw-"

_There is no choice, Rebekah. We must do it._

Bek wanted to argue. She started to argue. But the Tok'ra was firm and stronger than she was. With an iron control Bek had only suspected the Tok'ra possessed, Garshaw took control of her body. _I am sorry, Rebekah._

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. Instead she watched as her hands set the tel'tac on a course toward Cheyenne. No matter how hard she fought, struggled and begged, the Tok'ra ignored her. Garshaw entered the cargo bay and shut the bulkhead doors behind her. Bek felt the burning pain as Garshaw wrapped a wrist in cargo lines, effectively tying Bek to the ship.

On her cheeks, Bek felt hot tears, but it wasn't her crying. When the cargo bay doors opened, cold wet air rushed in and tried to tug them out into the open to play, but the cargo lines cut in and held them fast, drawing blood along her wrists. Garshaw/Bek screamed in pain, and the icy wind eagerly stole the sound and whipped it away into the dawn.

Fumbling now, with stiff cold fingers, Garshaw pulled the small vial from its protective container. Beneath them the thousands of Jaffa rolled slowly past as the Tel'tac continued along its almost leisurely course towards the mountain. 

Fear and desperation, and the Tok'ra snapped the vial with bloodless fingers over the army.

_I am sorry, Rebekah._

Through eyes that weren't her own, Bek watched the poison swirl and twist in the morning air, and something inside her curled up and went still. Cheyenne Mountain appeared, something flashed gold, and Garshaw was gone.

---  
**Tel'tac**

He lay on cool floor for several seconds. He wasn't sure who it was laying on top of him, or if it was only one person, and he quite frankly didn't care. Against his cheek the polished floor cold was juxtaposed by the burning heat of his body. On fire. He felt like he was on fire and floating away.

Jack groaned.

Wind whipped and tugged at him, washing over his hot face and staunching a trickle of blood slowly rolling down his temple.

Wind.

Why was it windy in the Tel'tac?

His body screamed in protest when he shifted, dislodging the person pinning him to the ground.

"Colonel?" someone murmured.

"Carter?"

"Oh God," she moaned.

Jack sat up, and looked around the Tel'tac. Next to him, umoving, lay Tom. Carter was sprawled across the floor several feet away. Andrews and Davis were next to Carter, both groaning now. When he turned around his stomach flopped oddly inside him. Bek was hanging by a bloody wrist from the Tel'tac, her face pale and her eyes shut.

"Davis!" Jack snapped, struggling to his feet and staggering toward the teenager. "Davis, damn it, get up!"

Davis moaned and remained lying on the ground, but Andrews struggled upright. "Colonel?"

"I need a hand," Jack grunted, his fingers wrapping around Bek's arm and pulling. Her skin was cold and slick with blood and water. His fingers slipped, unable to find purchase on her arm. Seconds passed, and Andrews was there, grabbing hold of Jack's shirt and reaching past him to try and wrap an arm around the girl's waist. Jack wasn't sure how they did it, but together they pulled her back into the Tel'tac and sliced the ties from around her wrist. She whimpered in pain, but didn't stir.

"Holy cow," Andrews breathed, staring over the edge of the open tel'tac door.

Far beneath them was the Jaffa army. Unmoving and silent. Jack let his eyes linger briefly, but looked away from the slaughter and punched the controls to shut the cargo bay doors. He met Andrews' horror-filled gaze with one of his own – just as shocked and horrified, he imagined – before staggering to his feet again. 

"Look after her," he said gruffly, his voice roughened by the ice in the air, before making his way unsteadily into the bridge.

It only took a heartbeat to re-cloak the tel'tac, and a breath longer to change the course and head back to the facility where Fraiser and Cassandra were waiting. His eyes unseeing ahead of him, Jack raised his hands and moulded the shape of the crystals against his chest. He realised his fingers were covered in blood, and he had painted it across the tel'tac controls. He couldn't find the ability to care.

---


	19. Chapter 19

---

**PART NINETEEN**

---

**Tel'tac**

There was silence in the bridge as the occupants gazed over the destruction. While he wasn't a stranger to violence or war, the complete annihilation below them, the complete destruction of an army where it stood, was almost too much, even for Maybourne.

"This is what it is capable of," Ishta said quietly, her voice breaking the silence.

"It is the first and the last time it will be used," Jacob whispered.

Even El'son, Maybourne realised, was appalled by the death before them.

The poison had been a concept, Maybourne realised, the A-bomb of the galaxy. Yes, it could win a war and give power, but at what cost?

_A price too great,_ El'son said quietly.

Maybourne didn't reply, but he shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Aware of his discomfort, the Tok'ra retreated (how exactly the Tok'ra retreated when it was in his own head Maybourne wasn't sure, he was just glad it did).

"There is no sign of the Tau'ri," Bra'tac said.

"The facility is a few miles that way," Maybourne offered, pointing towards the forested hills in the distance, "they might be there."

Following Maybourne's directions, Teal'c piloted the Tel'tac toward the nuclear facility. As they approached, Maybourne pointed out a clear area between the trees and the squat concrete buildings. Teal'c nodded to indicate he agreed, and started putting the Tel'tac down.

Suddenly the clearing was filled with another Tel'tac, and Teal'c jerked their ship back up and away from the near-collision.

"Crap," Maybourne muttered, clenching his fists in surprise.

"Is it them?" Bra'tac questioned quietly.

No one spoke as they watched the ship. Soon the cargo doors opened, and two men stepped from the ship.

"Yes," Maybourne whispered, cold relief like adrenalin flooding through him. "It's Jack and Andrews."

Teal'c uncloaked their ship, and the two men on the ground almost fell over in shock. Maybourne narrowed his eyes as Jack almost walked to cover, as though he couldn't move faster. The other, Andrews, raised his weapon in suspicion even though it was a futile gesture. Where, Maybourne wondered, was everyone else?

With a skill that El'son envied – why did Maybourne know that anyway? – Teal'c put the Tel'tac down in a small patch of the clearing, only scraping a few trees at the back.

"We're friendly," Maybourne called as the cargo doors were opened and before anyone could open fire.

There was a silence, and then, "Maybourne?"

"How ya doin, Jack?" Maybourne asked cheerily, nodding and leading the others from the Tel'tac.

"Oh, thank God," Jack whispered, and sank to the ground as though his legs couldn't hold him any longer. "Thank you God."

"You look like shit, Jack," Maybourne said.

_He is battle-weary,_ El'son whispered. Maybourne ignored him. 

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

"Dr. Fraiser, Dr. Markhov, Dr. Harlowe and Cassandra Fraiser are still in the facility, the remainder are all on board the Tel'tac," Andrews answered.

"My daughter?" Jacob demanded.

Andrews hesitated a second. "Major Carter, sir?"

"Yes. Where is she?"

"She's on the Tel'tac," Andrews said uncomfortably, "no disrespect intended, but the people inside are in trouble."

"Jaffa?" Teal'c questioned as Jacob immediately disappeared into the other Tel'tac.

"We think so," Jack finally spoke. "God, I'm glad you guys are here."

"You weren't planning on going in there by yourselves, Jack?" Maybourne asked.

Jack gave a hollow laugh. "Not like we had much choice, Maybourne. No one on that Tel'tac is conscious." The laugh turned into a hack, and Maybourne was horrified to see a splatter of crimson appear on his lips.

"You're hurt, Jack," Maybourne said.

_I can help,_ El'son offered.

"No shit," Jack gasped. "Not as bad as the others. Davis took a blast to his back, Carter's got chest and head injuries from her fall and added crushing her arm to the mix. Bek… God, Garshaw got caught by the poison and Bek was banged around outside the ship only tied on with cargo ties around her wrist. And Tom… Tom didn't make it."

Maybourne wondered if there was anyone in their group who was so far unscathed. 

"I need El'son," Jacob yelled from inside the Tel'tac. "Now!"

_It is urgent,_ El'son said, _He will need us to help heal._

He was reluctant to acknowledge the Tok'ra, even less enthusiastic to let the Tok'ra take control, but he was realistic enough to acknowledge the Tok'ra was needed. El'son was grateful and apologetic, and it irritated Maybourne to no end that the damn snake was so damn understanding.

Inside the Tel'tac it felt darker and colder, even though realistically it was exactly the same as the Tel'tac Maybourne had just left. Jacob was kneeling next to his daughter, a healing device on his hands glowing brightly. Jacob paused for a second. "Take a look at him," the older man said, nodding his head toward Paul Davis. "Bek will be fine, her injuries aren't life threatening. She's just in shock from Garshaw's death. The other one is already dead; there's nothing we can do for him."

Despite his anger and horror at being blended with a Tok'ra, Maybourne had to admit their talents at healing were impressive. He watched through his eyes which he couldn't control as El'son found a healing device carefully stashed in a small compartment in one of the walls.

His body felt like it was humming, and the device in their hands burst into life. In front of him, charred flesh and skin seemed to melt away and get taken up by new flesh. It grew slowly, streaks of pale pink skin painstakingly inching their way across raw muscle until the wound was healed. The hand device stopped abruptly, and Maybourne felt his body lurch forward as though a great weight suddenly rested on his back. He was sweating, he realised, and his muscles were tired and stiff, but Paul Davis was alive and waking up.

They sat back on their haunches, and for a brief moment Maybourne felt happy.

"Harry Maybourne," Teal'c said, and Maybourne jerked around to see the Jaffa crouching next to him. "We are going to rescue Dr. Fraiser and the others inside the facility. Are you able to join us?"

Maybourne was tired and unable to move, but El'son nodded for them. "We'll come," the Tok'ra said. Without argument from Maybourne, the Tok'ra pulled them to their feet, and followed Teal'c out the door leaving the patients in Jacob's care.

Outside in the grey drizzle the Jaffa were waiting with Jack and Andrews.

"You're not going, Jack," Maybourne said bluntly. He wasn't surprised to see Teal'c nod in agreement. 

"The hell I'm not," Jack protested.

"Think, O'Neill," Bra'tac said softly. "You will endanger us all. We do not need to look after you while we try to win a battle."

The words stung the Colonel, and Maybourne winced with sympathy.

"Jacob will probably need help with everyone in the Tel'tac," Maybourne suggested quietly.

Upset and anger warred with relief and resignation on Jack's face, and Maybourne knew they had won. Jack O'Neill was stubborn to the core, but even he was smart enough to realise when to give in.

"I'll watch your six," Jack said tiredly, a bitter smile touching his lips. "You better get them, Maybourne, or I swear to God I will shoot you."

"Promises, promises, Jack," Maybourne sighed.

"Come," Teal'c said quietly. "We will return, O'Neill."

"Wasn't expecting anything less, T."

---  
**Nuclear Facility**

Dust and smoke mingled, clogging her throat and sticking to her skin. It smelt like fire and death, and Janet wasn't sure how much longer she could last. Wedged between two cracked slabs of concrete from what had been a wall to a room, she was only just managing to keep the Jaffa at bay.

Across the way from her, half behind another fallen slab and half exposed lay what was left of Samuels. Janet choked back a sob. Tears stung her eyes and turned grim to mud on her cheeks. For the last five minutes she'd sat here, smelling Samuels' blood mingling with concrete flakes, and shooting any Jaffa appearing in her line of site. Her position afforded her cover, and until she ran out of ammo or they killed her, there was no way for them to get past.

She figured she'd run out of ammo and get killed fairly soon.

Another Jaffa approached, and she squeezed the trigger, watching him stagger under the fire and then collapse in a metal heap, spilling blood which ran and pooled and mixed with Samuels' blood like a red lake.

One clip left, she thought, squeezing the trigger again, and two grenades she'd managed to pull from Svetlana's body before she'd been pressed back by the approaching wave of Jaffa.

Groping in the dark next to her with her free hand, Janet watched as two Jaffa approached this time. Her stream of bullets stopped one, but the second one was quick. His staff weapon fired, lightening the passage with a flash of yellow light before Janet felt a searing pain in her left shoulder. Grunting, ignoring the burning in her arm, she shot him down while her left hand found one of the two grenades she had left. By the time the next wave of Jaffa – four this time – approached she had the pin between her teeth and had counted up to four.

She threw the grenade as far as her damaged arm could and crouched low into her little nook, holding her arms over her head. The shock wave hit her and the searing heat followed almost immediately. Janet threw up over her legs and boots, the vomit mixing with tears and blood and ash.

Her ears were ringing and she could smell burnt flesh everywhere. She lifted the P-90 again, stifling sobs as her arm screamed in protest. Resting it on her knees, she forced herself to change the clip, and then scrabbled next to herself for the last grenade.

One Jaffa approached cautiously, and she shot him down again, the rapport of the P-90 muffled by the ringing in her ears. Another, and he met the same fate. Any minute now, and she would run out of ammo.

There was a small pause, and then a charge of Jaffa. Again, she had already counted to four and threw the grenade, but her arm was so tired it didn't fly far enough.

Oh God, she thought, pressing herself against the wall, this is it. This is where I die.

It exploded, and the world turned hot and loud and heavy as it pressed in against her. Her arm was burning and it felt like her trousers were melting into her legs with the heat. Slowly it faded, but she couldn't move, couldn't check to see if she was still alive.

She heard the clanking of a Jaffa again, and cried. Cried because her daughter was four levels down dying and seventeen levels up the world was being destroyed by alien creatures who couldn't be stopped. Cried because she was going to die alone seventeen levels underground, killed by an enemy that just didn't die.

The noise grew louder as the Jaffa came closer, but Janet couldn't lift her head to look at him. Couldn't look at the soldier who was going to kill her. She was a coward, curled into a ball in a dark tunnel at the end of the world.

Her world narrowed to the sound of a staff weapon. The sound of metal boots on broken concrete. To weapons fire. To a voice she never thought she'd hear again calling her Dr. Fraiser and pulling her out of her nook. To a friend who'd saved her and pulled her into a hug.

The world spun and burnt, and she cried in Teal'c's arms, covered in blood and vomit and relief.

---  
**Tel'tac**

There was nothing left in him, Jacob thought ruefully, collapsing against the interior hull of the Tel'tac. Nothing at all.

Except an old snake, Selmak remarked, but exhaustion had made the Tok'ra just as unable to move as the human.

_We make a disgustingly easy target,_ Jacob said tiredly.

_O'Neill is there._

And he is so much better off than we are.

Forcing his eyes open, Jacob cast a glance on the subject of his and Selmak's discussion. Slumped against the cargo bay doors, P-90 lying carelessly in his lap, Jack O'Neill barely looked alive.

"How are you holding up, Jack?" Jacob asked, his voice croaking in his throat.

Jack only smiled, not opening his eyes or moving.

"Jack?" Jacob pressed.

"I'm too old for this," Jack said, but his voice was barely audible. "I should have retired and bought a dog."

Jacob allowed a small bark of laughter to escape. "When we've had a breather, Selmak wants to take a look at you."

"I'm fine," Jack said, but it lacked conviction.

"You're coughing up blood, Jack, and you've got an infected staff blast on your shoulder. That's not fine."

"How's Carter?" Jack asked, ignoring Jacob.

"Sam will be okay," Jacob said, his hand automatically reaching out and resting on his daughter's forehead. It was warm under his fingertips, her breath puffing regularly from her lips, and her heart pulsed strongly in her chest. "We can't do anything else for her, but she'll be fine in time."

His daughter. Alive. Even though it was hours since Jack had first told him the news that she was still alive, he couldn't believe it. His fingers moved gently over the skin of her neck, once again checking a pulse he knew was there. She was his daughter, alive, and he had no ability to comprehend how he felt, let alone attempt to explain it, so all he could do was touch her and be close and reassure himself again and again and again she was real and she was here and she was alive.

_I know, Jacob,_ Selmac whispered gently, _I know._

Jacob brushed his thumb gently over Sam's chin, and let his fingers travel back up to her forehead, once again moving in the gentle pattern. He didn't touch her arms, afraid to cause damage to the fragile repairs Selmac had only just managed to coax into beginning.

"I thought she was dead," Jack said.

Jacob looked up at him, but Jack's eyes were shut. "A lot of us did."

"Thor said they knew she was alive, but none of them bothered to tell us. Just like they didn't bother to tell anyone about me."

Jacob winced, running his fingers over Sam's horribly short hair.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Jacob said softly.

Jack opened his eyes. "You don't have anything to apologise for, Jacob."

It might be true, Jacob thought, but it still felt as though he should have done something. Suspected something.

"Did you find anything to help you with those bugs?" Jacob asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know. I took the memory crystals and tried to send as much as I good to the Tel'tac, but I don't know what we got. Hopefully."

"Well, at least with the Goa'uld gone you'll be able to work on evacuation of as many people as possible if the bugs are still going to be an issue."

"The Jaffa are not all gone, yet."

"No, but do you honestly think they'll hang around after that display outside Cheyenne?"

"Hope not. I don't want to be forced to use more, not to mention try and convince Teal'c he wants to part with more."

"Not very ethical, is it?"

"Not much is ethical these days."

Jacob conceded the point, and let his fingers brush over Sam's forehead again. "I didn't believe she set that bomb, Jack."

"But you're her father," Jack replied. "Everyone would expect you to claim her innocence."

"I have eyes, Jack, and I know my daughter. It didn't make sense for her to kill you, Daniel or George."

"Hammond and I were ordered to attend that dinner," Jack said finally. "Couldn't work out why we needed to be there for a funding thing, but we figured it was because they wanted Daniel there to charm everyone."

Jacob snorted. "Daniel charm everyone?"

"He was good at charming people when he got his head out of his ass," Jack stated. "It's obvious now, that it was a set-up. No way would Carter voluntarily have attended one of those dinners, so they were safe pinning it on her."

"You're lucky to have survived, Jack," Jacob said. "I saw the footage. In fact, I was certain there was no way you could have survived that blast."

"Luck had nothing to do with it, Jacob. Carter called me, said she'd found something important."

"What?"

"I still don't know, actually. I'm guessing something to do with the set-up, but the building blew up before I could get to her. I was outside, caught in the shockwave."

"Still, you were lucky."

Jack was quiet for a long time, his fingers aimlessly fiddling with the P-90. "No," he said. "I was dead. I did die."

And it was purely sadistic for the Goa'uld to revive him and make him the subject of their experiments. Something only the Goa'uld would be capable of. They would have enjoyed the irony of watching a dead man brought back to life only to be sentenced to lifelessness. Jacob closed his eyes and let his head fall against the hull behind him. God, what a fucked up universe.

"Jacob Carter?" Teal'c's voice startled them both as Jacob's communicator sprang to life.

"Go ahead, Teal'c."

"We have Dr. Fraiser, Dr. Harlowe and Cassandra with us. All are safe, and El'son is assisting Cassandra with a healing device."

Jacob heard Jack mutter a quiet 'thank you God'.

"Thank you, Teal'c. What about Colonel Samuels and Svetlana?"

"They have both fallen. We will be returning to the surface shortly."

They sat in silence for several minutes, listening as a barely-there drizzle returned and slowly built up to a heavy downpour again. Jacob opened his eyes and stared out the doors at the rain sheeting down and almost hiding the evident signs of battle around the Tel'tac.

"At least the rain keeps the bugs away," Jack said lightly.

"I am so sick of rain," Jacob muttered, "that I find myself wishing for a desert planet. And of course, the first time in three years I visit earth, it doesn't just rain, it pours."

"I don't know," Jack said, closing his eyes. "I kinda like the rain."

There was something about sitting and listening to the rain that just couldn't be found in anything else, Jacob acknowledged silently. Beneath his fingers, Sam stirred briefly, but settled again into sleep. He brushed his fingers over her forehead in the pattern that had put her to sleep as little girl, and allowed a tired smile to touch his lips.

"Sam likes the rain too."

---

Teal'c stood silently beside Doctor Fraiser's makeshift bed and watched as El'son activated the healing device over Cassandra Fraiser. It hummed soothingly in the dimly lit room, the soft white glow washing over the girl's still body. The sound was hypnotising until suddenly it ceased and the light blanked out. Teal'c blinked, waiting.

El'son, hunched over Cassandra Fraiser's bed, slowly straightened his shoulders and stepped back from the cot. "I have done what I can for her," he said quietly. "I do not know whether it will be enough."

Teal'c was thankful Janet Fraiser was sleeping and did not hear the pronouncement. He hoped that by the time she woke, Cassandra Fraiser would also be on the way to recovery. Sliding his gaze from Cassandra's still form, he studied the small woman lying unmoving on her roughly made bed. There were large burn wounds on her cheeks, and her auburn hair was singed and curled back roughly from her face. The acrid smell of burning meat and plastic permeated the air around her, and Teal'c felt himself cringe at the sight of her clothing almost melted into her skin.

"When I have had time to recover, I will assist Doctor Fraiser," El'son said beside him. "My host and I are still weak from the blending."

"Thank you," Teal'c said quietly.

"We cannot stay here, Teal'c," Bra'tac said. "The alien creatures will not stay away for long, and the rain will not last. We must move these and ourselves to a safer location."

"The SGC has medical facilities," Teal'c decided. "The Jaffa and Goa'uld would have left fearing more death."

"We must move the Tau'ri to the Tel'tacs, Teal'c, until we have claimed the SGC."

Teal'c nodded in agreement, radioed O'Neill to inform him of their plan, and gently picked up Janet Fraiser. Following his lead, Bra'tac picked up Cassandra Fraiser. He didn't stop to see whether the Tok'ra or Tau'ri scientist Timothy Harlowe followed.

By the time they reached the surface the rain was lessening again and the sun had risen high in the sky. Teal'c carried his friend to the Tel'tac where Jacob Carter and O'Neill were waiting for them.

"Is she alive?" O'Neill asked quietly, and despite the concern on his voice the man did not move.

"Yes, but she is severely injured. The Tok'ra El'son will attempt to heal her shortly."

"I can do that," Jacob Carter inserted. "El'son and Maybourne need time before they undergo so much stress."

El'son took control of the Tel'tac with the wounded, while Teal'c and those still walking claimed the second Tel'tac. The ships were barely cloaked and lifting off the ground when Teal'c caught sight of a large swarm of bugs braving the rain. The sight of these creatures which had come so close to killing him was not pleasant, and Teal'c studied them silently.

"A mere insect could wreak this havoc," Bra'tac murmured beside him.

"The small and weak are often believed to be insignificant," Teal'c replied calmly.

"I am hopeful the information recovered from the Goa'uld memory crystals will be sufficient to destroy these creatures," Bra'tac mused.

Teal'c, looking down at the fields of dead Jaffa beneath them, wondered if perhaps destruction was always the right choice. Whether it was these alien bugs or Jaffa littering the wet fields of Earth, it didn't matter. Death didn't care what it took.

Ahead of them, Cheyenne Mountain appeared through the misty rain, almost bare without the burden of the mothership resting on it. "Where'd it go?" the Tau'ri Andrews asked.

"It entered hyperspace shortly after you returned to the Tel'tac with O'Neill," Teal'c explained. "There is no sign or indication of any remaining Goa'uld activity."

---


	20. Chapter 20

---

**PART TWENTY**

---

She woke up slowly, almost dreamily. Her bed was warm and comfortable, and she could feel golden sunlight warming her wrist where it lay. She smiled lazily, enjoying the warmth as it toasted her skin, growing warmer and warmer and warmer until suddenly she realised her wrist was burning blood red and throbbing with pain.

Her eyes flew open, the world a blinding white that stung her eyes and dulled the flare of pain from her wrist for scant seconds.

"Easy, easy," someone was saying, but she didn't know who.

Something inside her was missing, she thought blindly, struggling to sit up and find it.

Find what?

"Garshaw?" she called out desperately, fighting the hands trying to hold her down. "Garshaw? Where are you?"

"Shh, Bek," someone soothed, firm hands pressing her shoulders back into the softness of her bed.

"I need to find Garshaw," she insisted, her voice scratching brokenly into her throat. "She's gone."

"Bek, honey," a sympathetic voice said. Janet Fraiser, Bek realised suddenly, Cassandra's mother was the one holding her down.

"I need to find her, Janet!" Bek said desperately.

"You know better than that," Janet said quietly.

And Bek did know better. She remembered a moment of fear and apprehension just before Garshaw released the poison. She remembered feeling cold and empty.

"I couldn't stop her," Bek whispered, closing her eyes. It was so quiet in her head without Garshaw there, even though the Tok'ra had only been present for a day.

"It was her choice," Janet said. Bek appreciated the contact as Janet stroked a gentle over her hair, smoothing back the lank and dirty strands.

"I couldn't stop her," Bek repeated. "I was powerless."

She hated the Tok'ra, Bek realised suddenly. Despite promises and assurances of a symbiotic relationship, the Tok'ra had taken control of the situation and ignored Bek's opinions and wants. The Tok'ra had used her, and now she was gone.

She hated Garshaw with an ache of emptiness that rivalled the stabbing pain of her wrist.

"Where's Cassie?" Bek asked after the silence grew too thick.

"Sleeping," Janet said.

Bek thought maybe there was something Janet wasn't telling her, but the blissful haze of sleep was more comforting than the cold emptiness of being alone, so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to slip away.

---

Something she recognised from a past lifetime tickled at her senses like a long forgotten smell that teased her memory until curiosity forced her to open her eyes and find out what it was.

"How are you feeling?" her dad asked.

How are you feeling.

Samantha Carter's eyes burnt with unshed tears, and she blinked them away furiously, determined not to cry. "Fine," she lied, staring at him.

He was silent for several long seconds, and then he surprised her. A single tear, large and glistening, rolled down his cheek and dropped onto the back of one aching hand. It was hot and wet and trickled across her skin until it pooled on the cool sheet beneath her palm.

"God, Sam," he whispered, biting his lip as another tear escaped.

She wondered why Selmak didn't stop the unusual display of emotion.

"When did you get here?" Sam whispered instead, trying to still the pounding her skull and work out where she was. "What happened?"

"It's almost over, Sam," her dad said, gently taking her hand in his and lightly rubbing her skin with his thumb. "The Goa'uld left twenty four hours ago, and scientists around the US are working on the compound in the Goa'uld memory crystals which should help eradicate the bugs."

Almost over?

Again tears threatened to escape, and Sam tried to squeeze her father's fingers with her own. Her arm, however, spasmed with pain and she clenched her teeth to ride the wave of agony.

"Your arm will always hurt when it's cold," Jacob murmured once she had her breath back. "We did what we could, but you shattered the bones completely when you jammed it in those doors."

She remembered the burning sensation as the bones were crumbled to dust in her fingers.

"What about everyone else?"

She saw him hesitate, and guessed what was coming.

"Jack's in bad shape – his shoulder was infected and he has several other fairly significant injuries. His state of health wasn't good to begin with, and it's going to take him a while to recover from this."

"Cassie?" Sam demanded.

Jacob sighed. "She's alive, Sam, and that's all we know for now. We did what we could, but if she wakes up there's a lot of damage we couldn't undo."

Cassie, with her bright eyes and cheeky grin. Cassie with her moods and scowls and warm hugs and sticky kisses. Cassie smelling of shampoo and sitting against her on the sofa while they watched endless cartoons and cuddled the damn dog.

"Who else?"

"Garshaw didn't make it," Jacob said quietly. "She sacrificed herself. Bek woke up a while ago and, physically, she'll recover completely."

Jacob didn't have to tell her what it was like to have a symbiote die inside you – Sam was well aware of what it entailed.

"Paul Davis will recover almost completely, Janet had a battering but she bounced back. Svetlana Markhov, Colonel Samuels, Walter Davis and Tom Locke all died."

She'd really liked Davis, Sam thought dully, and Tom had treated her with respect.

"How many Jaffa died?"

"Too many," Jacob said quietly.

She stared at him. "Fucking bastards," she spat, glaring at him. "They had a choice, and I hope they rot in hell for what they wanted to do."

He stared at her in horror, as though she were a stranger he didn't know or recognise. He didn't know her, Sam thought, because she had changed more than even she had realised. She didn't recognise herself anymore.

"You don't believe that, Sam," he said quietly.

Maybe once she didn't believe that, but now she didn't know what she believed anymore.

"I'm tired," she said instead, and closed her eyes.

She didn't move until she finally heard his footsteps move away from her and recede down the hall. Only then did she open her stinging eyes and stare up at the ceiling, wishing that maybe she had cried in front of him so he'd give her a hug and tell her it would all be okay again.

Her eyes kept stinging.

---

"You should rest," Paul Davis said.

"You should be in bed," Janet returned, not taking her eyes off the still figure of her daughter.

"I needed to get up," Paul argued.

She heard him shuffling around on the linoleum floor, waiting until he dragged a plastic chair over to sit beside her and keep watch over Cassie. "I'll sit here until you get back, Janet."

"I can't leave her," Janet said tiredly. "She should have woken up by now."

"She will wake up," Paul promised, even though Janet knew it was an empty promise. He couldn't say whether or not her daughter would wake up, just like no one else could predict it. And if Cassie did wake up, or didn't, Janet wanted to be there either way.

"You have to sleep some time," Paul continued.

"I can't," Janet said dully. "I'm past sleep now."

With sleep came nightmares and the smell of burning flesh. She shuddered on her chair, despite the warmth in the room, and tucked her sneakered feet up onto the edge of the chair so that she could wrap her arms around her legs and rest her chin on her knees.

"You can let go now," Paul said quietly.

"Have you been watching those talkshows again?" Janet quipped irritably. "I'm fine, Paul."

She wasn't exactly certain when they started calling each other by their first names, but for some reason it felt appropriate. As though they'd seen too much and done too much together to bother with the formalness of rank and protocol.

And he'd saved her daughter, Janet added mentally.

"I spoke to the President today," Paul said. "They've started distributing the anti-viral and experimenting with the eradication compound."

"They have no way of determining what the long term effects of either of those chemicals will be," Janet commented.

Paul shrugged. "I guess that it could be argued the long term effects are not as bad as the short term effect of ignoring the bugs."

"There will be birth defects, or an increased mortality, kidney damage, liver damage… whatever. Once the bugs are taken care of, and the effects of these untried drugs come into light, we'll be the bad guys."

"Timothy will," Paul said quietly.

"Pardon?"

"He's getting a commendation and an award," Paul admitted. "For his efforts during a time of great trial and tribulation."

"Did you quote that?" Janet asked, trying to ignore the sting of bitterness his words drove through her soul. Timothy, the man who ignored their advice to leave the bugs alone, would be the one to be rewarded for his part in 'saving them', even though his fooling with the bugs gave the Goa'uld the intergalactic political window through which they could crawl in the first place.

"I think he used 'great strife' and 'perseverance' when he spoke to me, but yeah, something like that," Paul smiled.

"Is the bug spray going to work?" Janet asked finally.

Paul shrugged. "All the current trials are showing it does. They're using an EM field to attract the bugs, and then effectively crop dusting them with it. It's going to take a long, long time to get rid of them all, if we ever accomplish getting rid of them all. The population is still advised to remain indoors unless they've been exposed to the vaccine already, and the anti-viral is being produced more effectively than we thought would be possible."

"Think we'll ever recover completely?" Janet asked, thinking about the devastation of EMPs and bombs and the bugs.

"No," Paul said honestly. "They detonated nukes in two states, and their current estimates are suggesting that less than a quarter of our population will survive in the long term. And that's ignoring the long term effects of this 'crop dusting' and anti-virals."

Janet sighed, and closed her eyes as she rested her forehead on her knees. 

"The President is also going to clear Major Carter's name, and present her, Colonel O'Neill and Harry Maybourne with commendations of bravery."

Janet could only imagine what Sam and Jack would say when they found out they were going to be awarded for bravery by the government that effectively betrayed them.

"What about you?"

"You too," Paul said instead.

"Pardon?" 

"You, myself, and Andrews will also receive those commendations. Tom Locke, Samuels, Walter Davis and Dr. Markhov will also receive recognition."

"What about Bek and Cassie?" Janet asked, not opening her eyes.

"I don't know," Paul admitted. "I'm not even sure the President is exactly aware of what their involvement was or what they did."

It would be nice, Janet thought, if the girls got some recognition, but ultimately she wasn't too inclined to care. She'd been stripped of her rank and shamed by the Air Force, and she didn't really care anymore about things like awards and commendations these days.

All she really wanted was for her little girl to wake up again and smile at her.

"Go to sleep, Janet," Paul murmured.

If she was still awake, Janet might have answered him.

---

Maybourne found Jack sitting on a plastic chair outside Carter's hospital room.

"She's allowed to have visitors," Maybourne said quietly, stopping beside Jack. With El'son there, he could sense the naquadah in Jack's system, and El'son's knowledge and memories exposed Maybourne to a whole host of things he didn't want to know, and didn't need to know about the Goa'uld. Namely what they had done to Jack O'Neill.

"How's your visitor?"

Maybourne was really trying not to think about that.

_You cannot ignore me for ever, Harold._

Maybourne, Maybourne corrected sharply before he remembered he was ignoring his roommate.

"Maybourne?" Jack asked, lifting his head to look up at Maybourne. It appeared to cost Jack a lot of effort to life his head, and Maybourne frowned at him.

"Should you even be out of bed, Jack?"

"I've spent too much time in hospital beds lately, Maybourne. This chair is fine."

"How's the arm?" Maybourne asked, wisely ignoring Jack's obvious defiance of doctors' orders.

"Oh, you know," Jack said airily, giving a feeble wave with his good hand. "Thanks for that, by the way."

Maybourne shrugged and dropped into a chair beside Jack. "Some things about the Tok'ra are pretty useful," he conceded.

"Did I make the right call?" Jack asked finally, his voice strangely uncertain. Maybourne wasn't used to hearing Jack sound uncertain, and he studied the man for several seconds.

Was it the right call?

"I'd be dead if you didn't make that call," Maybourne said finally. "I think blended is better than dead."

Oddly enough Jack gave a dry chuckle which quickly turned into a hacking cough.

"I'm fine," Jack rasped when Maybourne grabbed hold of his arm as though to steady him in the chair. "Just a tickle."

They settled down in silence for several long minutes, before Jack finally spoke again. "Did you ever consider retirement?"

"I was retired, Jack," Maybourne pointed out. "Great little deal involving beaches, bikinis and cocktails."

"You thinking you should have stayed retired?"

"And missed all this fun?" Maybourne questioned.

Jack sighed. "I'm thinking I should have stayed retired."

Maybourne often forgot Jack O'Neill had retired once before the SGC, and it was always discomforting to think of a man like O'Neill sitting in a room with a gun in his hands ready to blow his brains out.

"Why? You've done a lot of good out there, Jack."

"If we hadn't done what we did, none of this would have happened."

"You saying Kinsey was right?" Maybourne asked dryly. "That the Stargate should have been shut up and hidden away?"

"I was going to get a dog, you know," Jack said quietly. "Before they pulled me out of retirement. A retriever, or a Collie. Wasn't sure which, but I had the names of some breeders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Maybourne asked, staring at Jack in confusion. Jack O'Neill wasn't someone for sentimental, wispy talking about the way things could have been or should have been. Jack O'Neill was more of a 'I don't like how it is now so I'm damn well gonna change it' person.

"How can you retire after something like this? How can you just sit by a lake with a beer and a dog, fishing, and the world just keeps going by?"

Maybourne shrugs. "The world keeps going by anyway. Might as well sit back and enjoy the ride."

"What does the snake think?" Jack asked.

_It is what he fought for, isn't it?_

"El'son thinks I'm right," Maybourne said smugly.

"Of course he does."

"What's really bothering you, Jack?"

Jack hesitated and opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Nothing," he said finally.

_He is afraid that this isn't real. That nothing will last._

I didn't ask for your input this time.

I am right, though.

Maybourne rolled his eyes. _You think you know everything._

No, but for O'Neill it has been a long, long time, and suddenly he is something he thought he would never be again.

What's that?

Free.

"You should go talk to her Jack," Maybourne said quietly, for the first time thankful for the Tok'ra he was blended with. "I think she's one of the only people who understands."

Jack O'Neill of old would have rolled his eyes and said something sharp and witty to brush off Maybourne's comment. This Jack O'Neill, the old and tired Jack O'Neill, simply smiled tiredly and shrugged in resignation.

"What if she doesn't?" he asked quietly.

"You still have friends here, Jack."

Maybourne turned to walk away, when Jack called out to him. "I thought I told you to stop watching the Hallmark Channel. You get sappier and sappier each time I see you."

Maybourne grinned broadly at the response, and even though he didn't stop walking he called back, "But they have such great commercials, Jack!"

"That snake is making you sappy."

Maybe El'son was helping with understanding motives, Maybourne conceded, but was it really so inconceivable that somehow during their twisted, warped time of working together and against each other, that he'd developed a strong respect and even affection for O'Neill?

Then again, maybe friends _was_ too strong a word for them.

---


	21. Chapter 21

---

**PART TWENTY ONE**

---

A light touch on her shoulder yanked her from a deep sleep, and she jerked sharply on the bed as she woke.

"Easy," a quiet voice whispered near her ear.

"Paul?" she murmured, trying to gain her bearings.

Infirmary. They were in SGC, holed up until the local bugs were taken care of.

Cassie.

She sat upright instantly, and cracked her forehead against Paul Davis' jaw.

"Oh, shit," he hissed as the crack echoed through the still room.

Janet clutched at her head until the sharp, sudden pain faded. "God, sorry," she whispered. "You okay?"

"You're lucky that wasn't my nose," Paul muttered. "I think Cassie's waking up."

Paul was forgotten almost instantly as Janet scrambled out of the bed she found herself in, not even thinking about how she got into the bed in the first place.

"Cassie?" she whispered, stopping next to the bed her daughter was lying on.

Janet thought she might have imagined it, but Cassie's eyelids seemed to flicker.

"What did you see?" Janet demanded, resting a cool hand on Cassandra's forehead.

"I'm sure her fingers twitched twice," Paul said firmly.

Again, Janet could have sworn she saw eyelashes fluttering. Seconds later Cassandra's lips twitched.

"Oh, god," Janet breathed, wrapping her fingers tightly around Cassandra's hand. "Cassie, honey, can you hear me? It's me. Mom."

A butterfly brush of movement within her fingers was Cassandra's respond. A weak, barely there flutter of her fingers before they fell still again.

"Oh, honey," Janet whispered, leaning over to press a kiss against Cassie's forehead. "You're going to be okay, sweetie, you're going to be okay."

When she moved away she was surprised to see dampness on Cassandra's skin, but when Paul reached over with a Kleenex and dabbed under her eyes she realised she was crying. She smiled at Paul gratefully. When a whisper soft moan escaped Cassie' lips, Janet wrapped her free hand tightly around Paul's and waited as her daughter finally woke up.

---

"Are you awake?" someone asked quietly.

Bek was tempted to keep her eyes closed and pretend she was, but there was something about the person standing beside her bed that tugged at her.

A Tok'ra, she realised, and opened her eyes.

Harry Maybourne was standing beside her. The man she had met that day at the airfield had been tense and anxious, his mouth pulled tight with strain and his eyes shifting quickly out of her gaze. This Harry Maybourne looked more in command of himself, and his gaze met hers steadily.

"I'm awake now," she said finally. She was the one to break his gaze. 

"El'son wanted to talk to you," Maybourne said by way of explanation.

El'son, the Tok'ra who had accompanied Garshaw the day she blended with Bek. The Tok'ra who had been damaged, and blended with Maybourne to save both of them.

"About?"

Maybourne's eyes flashed gold, and despite having been blended herself, Bek felt a flicker of unease and fear at the display.

"Garshaw."

"I don't want to talk about that," Bek said icily, glaring at the Tok'ra.

"I understand in her last moments Garshaw acted in a manner which left you helpless."

"Jack was right," Bek spat at the Tok'ra. "The Tok'ra can't be trusted."

Maybourne/El'son smiled somewhat sadly at her. "You are grieving," he said gently, and lowered himself to the bed beside her. "If you could have saved Earth, but had to sacrifice yourself, would you have done so?"

Bek would have liked to think that she'd answer yes to that question, but having lived through it by way of Garshaw, she didn't think she could honestly answer it.

El'son interpreted her silence as permission to touch her, and he covered her hand with his. She stared at his hand; his fingernails were bitten and chipped to the quick, and hard calluses roughened the skin of his fingers.

"You are allowed to grieve for her," El'son said quietly. "It may seem strange because you were only blended for a short period, but a blending combines two beings in a way that nothing else does. You were part of each other, and now it feels as though a part of yourself has died."

Bek refused to look up at him, and she tried to pull her fingers out from under his. The Tok'ra tightened his grip on her hand though, and reached with his other hand to gently take her chin and lift her face toward his.

"There is still a part of you inside her, just as you have a part of all her hosts before. Their memories are yours now, and their knowledge is yours. It will be difficult to accept it on your own, but it can be done."

"How?" Bek whispered, closing her eyes to break their gaze.

El'son shrugged. "I am not the one to ask; I have always been blended with another. Samantha Carter was once blended with a Tok'ra, perhaps she can offer you more advice."

At his words, memories of Sam when she first met Garshaw assaulted Bek's senses, and she gasped at the vividness. The Sam in the memories was so young, she realised, and so innocent compared to the hard, silent woman Bek had been introduced too. Memories of different people all known to Garshaw as hosts of Jolinar accosted her next, and Bek opened her eyes to try and stop the images flooding her mind.

El'son was still there, holding her hand she realised.

"It is a great gift, what you have been given," El'son remarked. "And great gifts often have great curses. You were selfless in your act of generosity when you volunteered with Garshaw. Garshaw was selfless in her act when she saved your planet. If you are ever in need of anything, Rebekah, the Tok'ra will do their utmost to assist you."

The Tok'ra eyes flashed again, and when Bek met his gaze she realised it was Maybourne she was looking at, and not El'son any longer.

"Are you going to stay blended?" she asked him eventually, when the silence in the room was too loud.

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's not like I didn't have voices in my head before. One more probably won't make all that much difference."

She smiled slightly at his attempt at a joke. "I liked Garshaw," she admitted, sighing. "But when she refused to let me have control… she just pushed me aside and rammed me into a corner. There was nothing I could do, and even though I screamed and screamed and screamed I never made a sound."

Maybourne's lip twitched, but he didn't respond.

"I never want to feel like that again," Bek whispered. "Ever."

"I'm a little concerned about that," Maybourne admitted. "Okay, a lot."

"You'll accept the risk?" Bek wanted to know.

Maybourne paused. "Well, I sort of owe him my life, so I guess it would only be fair."

Bek nodded, biting her lip. "Garshaw thought of El'son as very noble and honourable. I guess he's one of the better ones to get stuck with."

"El'son is flattered by Garshaw's opinion of him, and would like to inform you that if anything he's got the worse end of this deal because he's stuck with me," Maybourne said, grinning.

Despite herself and the dark emptiness inside her, Bek found herself smiling at him.

"If he picks on you, El'son, just tell me and I'll sort him out."

Maybourne looked at her oddly. "You're not a bad kid, Bek. I'm sorry about Cassandra."

"Yeah," Bek said quietly. "Me too."

---

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he found out Carter was still alive, despite the fact that it was little more than a week in reality. Still, in all that time, he hadn't really allowed himself to consider the implications of Carter being alive, and why exactly the knowledge made him feel so… content, despite everything else that had happened.

If he'd failed to truly consider her apparent status amongst the living for the last week or so, then he was certainly making up for lost time now. Sitting beside her while she slept on the hospital bed, he allowed himself to really look at her. To notice the dark rings under her eyes, and the way her cheekbones appeared more prominent than he was used to. Even in sleep, there was a tightness around her lips that spoke of bad dreams and a hard life.

And her hair.

Unable to help himself, Jack placed the offering of Jello he'd managed to locate in the commissary on the small cabinet beside her bed and reached his fingers out toward the tempting strands of hair. Short and spiky, there was something strangely satisfying about fiddling with her prison haircut.

"You really need to get a dog, sir."

Once upon a time, Jack would probably have jerked back guiltily if someone had discovered him stroking Carter's hair. Today, though, he continued ruffling it with his finger and looked down to meet her clear blue eyes, now open wide and looking up at him curiously.

"They're generally not as clean as your head," he said easily, ruffling a little more enthusiastically now that she was awake.

She scowled at him darkly, obviously not impressed with her hair, but didn't move away from his ministrations.

"I brought you a present," he said when the silence threatened to grow too strained.

"Just tell me it's not orange," she said with feeling.

He grinned at her, retrieving the bowl of Jello and presenting it to her with a flourish. "It's blue," he told her, even though she could see that for herself.

Her eyes widened and she stared at the Jello he still held in his hands. "Well?" he demanded impatiently.

To his surprise, and slight discomfort, it looked like she was trying not to cry. "I haven't had Jello… God. Thank you," she whispered, meeting his gaze steadily. For the first time in a long, long time, Jack saw the ghost of the old Carter in her eyes.

He smiled at her. "You going to eat it, or stare at it all day?"

She struggled to sit up in the bed, and he knew from experience that if he tried to help he'd do more harm than good. Eventually she had herself propped up on her pillows, and reached for the bowl with her good hand.

He would have handed the bowl over, but if she held onto it he wasn't sure how she was going to feed herself given her right arm wasn't exactly functioning properly.

"Full service," he told her blandly, sitting himself on the bed next to her and holding the bowl within her reach.

She looked like she wanted to argue with him; Carter hated being incapacitated, and for him to hold the bowl for like a child… the indignity of it was something Jack could well relate to. Instead of giving her an opportunity to argue with him, he grabbed the spoon and gathered up a large chunk of the Jello. "If I'm holding the bowl, the least you can do is share," he told her before jamming the spoonful into his own mouth.

"You don't like blue though," she said heatedly as he swallowed her present.

"They didn't have red, so this will have to do," he returned easily, digging the spoon into the dessert again.

"Am I going to get some of this Jello, or is my present watching you eat it?" Carter demanded.

Jack hesitated, not entirely sure how to take that statement. Carter cleared up the confusion by blushing, obviously not having intended to phrase her jibe quiet so suggestively. He grinned at her, and offered her the spoonful, expecting her to take it out of his hands and feed herself.

Again, Carter surprised him by opening her mouth and allowing him to feed the Jello to her. "Good?" he asked as she closed her eyes and savoured the taste.

"Oh yeah," she said quietly. When she finally opened her eyes, there was a softness in her gaze he didn't ever remember seeing before. "Thank you, Jack," she told him quietly.

"You're welcome, Sam," Jack said, helping himself to another mouthful. The shared the Jello in silence, a spoonful each until Jack was scraping the edges of the bowl for a last taste.

"They've given us the all-clear," Jack said finally, holding the empty bowl in his hands.

"What do you mean?" Carter asked.

"The crystals we got… they're doing the job with the bugs. They're saying that the local skies are clean and bug free."

Carter looked doubtful. "They can't guarantee that though," she pointed out. "What about bugs in the process of developing? Or where there's a significant lack of human habitation. There's no way they can say for certain the bugs aren't breeding and-"

"They're taking care of it," Jack interrupted, feeling a bubble of amazement inside him. Despite her arm, her experiences, her imprisonment… Carter just never managed to stop thinking. "Something about EM beacons to attract any remaining bugs being put up all over the country, and specially created squads to go around killing any infestations that do crop up."

Carter still looked unconvinced. "I don't think we'll ever be able to get rid of them all."

"Probably not," Jack agreed. "Fraiser says the vaccines will help keep the humans protected, but the ecosystem is going to be experiencing some pretty dramatic jumps. She's not positive it can withstand the long term effect of the bugs moving in."

Carter studied him carefully. "You don't sound too upset about that," she said finally.

Jack shrugged. "I don't care anymore," he admitted, placing the bowl back on the cabinet, but not moving from his spot on her bed. "President's giving us commendations and clearing our names. Did you know that?"

Bitterness didn't suit Carter's features. "I don't care," she said coldly. "They can all go shove their heads up their asses as far as I'm concerned," she added.

"Apparently Paul Davis has had several of the brass from DC on his back already. They want to set up media interviews with us – well, you specifically, but I've been graciously invited along – and ceremonies and the like. You're America's new sweetheart, Carter."

"I'm beginning to wonder why I fought so hard for my country," Carter said quietly.

"When they just left you high and dry to rot?"

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"Teal'c and your Dad are leaving soon," Jack announced. "I'm going with them."

Her eyes flew up to meet his. "Why?"

He shrugged. "The Jaffa are loyal. And when you get to know them, the Tok'ra aren't so bad either," he said carefully.

It took her a lot less time to consider his cryptic proposition than he would have thought. "Is there room for one more on the Tel'tac?" she asked hopefully.

Jack grinned. "Apparently the next planet on the list of safe havens has beaches that go on forever. Your Dad also knows of a few planets that have lakes with fish, and Teal'c said he'd help me build a cabin."

"How will you feed a dog on another planet?" Carter asked him logically.

He sighed, and eyed her very short hair cut speculatively.

"No," she said with finality, reading his mind. "My hair is not staying like this."

Jack grinned broadly at her. "Pity," he said, rising to his feet. "I thought it looked kinda cute."

Carter scowled at him again.

"I'll let your Dad know you're coming with us," he told her, picking up the empty Jello bowl. "And I'll make sure I raid the commissary's Jello stores before we go."

She grinned at him, and Jack felt like whistling as he walked out of the infirmary.

---

Sam had always spoken about Cassandra's strength and determination with an affection that made Jacob long to see his daughter have a child of her own. He'd always thought she'd make a wonderful mother, but his daughter's heart had always been first and foremost with the Stargate program.

Watching Cassandra now, struggling to make her legs work and carry her weight, Jacob understood why Sam respected the young woman so much.

"How's she doing?" Jack asked from beside Jacob.

"She's improved a little more again," Jacob replied, his eyes not leaving the strange, dragging motion of Cassandra's right leg. "I can't do any more for her though."

The two men watched silently as Janet coaxed her daughter along, both women completely focused on their task.

"Will she get better?" Jack asked hopefully.

Jacob shook his head regretfully. "The damage to her leg was extensive; I'm surprised we managed to save it. There's also significant brain damage that is well and truly beyond our repair. The only chance we have of helping her is a sarcophagus, and even then I think it's unlikely it would do much more for her than we've already done."

Jack sighed. "I'm surprised that she's up and walking already," he admitted.

Jacob smiled. "She's a very stubborn young woman, Jack."

Jack grinned. "Takes after Carter and Janet," Jack informed him.

Jacob looked carefully at the man standing next to him, curious about Jack's slight shift in relationship with his daughter. Jacob wasn't blind – he'd seen the closeness between the two of them previously, even when they were in a command chain. He never doubted his daughter would break regulations, but now that the two were in a non-chain of command situation, everything appeared very grey. Along with that, Jacob thought speculatively, Jack had informed Jacob that Sam was joining them when they left earth.

Jacob was happy to hear his daughter would be travelling with them, in a manner of speaking, but Jack had clearly indicated that Sam would be with _him_, not Jacob.

"Careful, sweety."

Jacob realised with surprise that during his internal mulling over the situation between Sam and Jack, he'd missed Janet and Cassandra's approach.

"She wanted to say hi," Janet explained as she helped support Cassandra.

Next to Jacob, Jack grinned broadly. "You're doing well, Cass," he said.

Cassandra smiled sloppily, half her mouth refusing to lift self and complete the gesture. A small, incoherent mumble escaped from her lips, and Jacob felt a pang of regret. He would have liked to be able to help Cassandra more, but there was only so much they could do.

"Come on, Cass, let's go for a walk," Jack said gently, taking Janet's place next to the young woman.

Together, Jack and Cassandra made their way back to the physio equipment Cassandra had been using earlier under Janet's supervision.

"I wanted to say thank you again," Janet said quietly next to him. "I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost her."

"She won't ever recover, Janet," Jacob said gently.

Janet smiled, but there was a touch of uncertainty in her eyes. "I know."

"Have you determined the extent of the effects on her brain yet?" Jacob asked.

Janet shook her head. "I haven't had time to do any proper testing, but there's a lot of damage, sir. Very broad, very extensive."

"She's a strong young woman," Jacob said finally, watching Cassandra struggle. "I don't think many other people would have been able to fight it as long as she did."

Janet nodded. "I'm not sure what she understand and what she doesn't," Janet confessed. "Sometimes I think she understands too well what's happened, and other times…"

"It's been a day, Janet," Jacob said carefully. "Don't push too hard; she still has some healing to do on her own."

Janet smiled. "I know. I just… she's my little girl, sir. I can't… the thought…"

"I know," Jacob said quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You can be proud of her."

Janet nodded. "Thank you again, sir. For everything."

"Have you spoken to Sam yet?" Jacob asked after a moment of silence.

"I know she plans to leave with the Colonel," Janet said carefully.

Jacob nodded. "I want her to stay for a while though, but I don't want it to come from me. Either from Jack, or you, or someone, but I think she needs to stay here first and tidy a few loose ends up before she goes."

"Sir?"

Jacob smiled at her. "Selmak says that right now my daughter is hurting because of what she sees as a betrayal by her country. Personally, I think Sam's well within her rights, but Selmak's probably got the right idea when she says that if Sam stays and accepts her commendations and the public apology before she leaves, things will be easier for her in the future if she wants to come back or visit."

Janet nodded thoughtfully. "I'll talk to the Colonel," she said at length. "Sam… Sam's not very happy with me at the moment."

"Give her time, Janet," Jacob suggested gently. "Once she cools down she'll realise that things were out of your control and that she's being unreasonable."

"Maybe she is being unreasonable," Janet agreed, "but she is right to be upset at me. I doubted her, and that alone is reason enough for her to be upset with me."

"We're all human, Janet. Give her a little time."

Janet smiled up at him, and he squeezed her shoulder before letting his hand drop. "Thank you, sir. I'd better get back to Cassandra now, and let the Colonel go talk to Sam."

Jacob grinned. "You're a wise woman, Dr. Fraiser."

She winked at him, and seconds later Jacob was standing by himself watching as Janet and Jack carefully helped Cassandra continue to move around the exercise equipment.

He only hoped he was right about Sam.

---


	22. Chapter 22

---

**PART TWENTY TWO: EPILOGUE**

---

"Under the proposal for the continuing work to eradicate the last of the remaining retrobugs on Earth, contractors are erecting large EM beacons in remote areas all around the country which will act to attract the creatures which haven't been destroyed yet. Our estimates are suggesting it is unlikely that we will ever truly ride of ourselves of these creatures, however by maintaining this eradication project and our beacons we hope to attract the vast majority of these creatures over time, with the result that the alien population remains as small as possible."

Sam wondered idly if Timothy was expecting a round of applause after his little speech, because if he was he certainly wasn't going to get it from her.

"The EM beacons are being placed strategically all over the country," Timothy continued. "This means that areas which have very little human habitation will also be monitored through the new system. The exact number of beacons we'll be constructing isn't known yet, but the stations will be manned and monitored constantly to stay up to date with what is happening."

None of this was new to Sam, and she found her attention wandering away from the future of pest control in America, to why on earth she'd agreed to the Colonel's suggestion. Hanging around for a few weeks seemed like a waste of time at this moment, even if it was supposedly to get together supplies, pick up their medals and public apologies before skipping off into the universe for their happily ever after.

Happily ever after. Sam glanced over at the man sitting next to her, studying him discreetly. Three weeks of sunshine, fresh air and damn good food had done him the world of good, she decided. In an attempt to 'win back their favour' so to speak, the government and Air Force had housed them in one of the most expensive hotels in DC.

Sam had endured numerous debriefings and avoided many more where officers in uniform and politicians continually tried to tell her how sorry they were she'd been so wrongfully jailed, and that they'd never for one minute believed she was guilty. She had perfected the art of smiling politely and finding an excuse to get away.

She had also, in the last three weeks, become surprisingly good at avoiding media crews who followed her around almost twenty four hours a day, each photographer or interviewer trying to get the inside scope on what it was like.

"What was what like?" Sam had asked once. "Being in prison or being betrayed by the country?"

The interviewer had responded "Yes, and also working at the SGC and having an alien for a father. And what was it like being infested by an alien?"

Sam had almost decked him, but the Colonel had been there that time and dragged her away before Sam created anther scandalous story to be plastered across the papers. She was sick of seeing her face on magazines and newspapers on the TV. She'd never asked for fame and notoriety, and to be thrust into the limelight yet again, this time as America's sweetheart, wasn't something that sat comfortably with her.

"You're doing it again," the Colonel murmured quietly, obviously paying as much attention to Timothy's speech as she was.

"What?" she snapped impatiently, just wanting to leave.

"The whole 'pissed off royally with the universe because they screwed me around' thing," he told her calmly.

She wanted to hit him when he said things like that. Jack O'Neill, the man who avoided shrinks the way cats avoided water, was trying to counsel her. Sam glared at him instead, even though he wasn't really watching her. "I want to go," she told him.

"We will," he promised. "I just want another medal and a public apology, and then we can go."

She didn't understand why the medal or the apology meant so much to him; as far as she was concerned the apology meant nothing and the medal was a way of 'buying back' her allegiance.

"Can't we just go now?" she asked impatiently.

He chuckled, and found her hand with his own. "Almost, Carter," he promised. "Timothy's almost done."

She wanted to argue with him, get rid of some of the anger still boiling inside her, but it was hard to feel angry when he held her hand in his own and the sun was so warm on her skin. Sam closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of his hand holding hers. He didn't hold her hand often, Sam thought, experimentally tightening her fingers in his. Sometimes he'd hug her, and once he'd kissed her on the cheek, but holding hands was as far as they went.

Applause broke out around them, intruding on Sam's considerations of their relationship.

"It's us now," he told her, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. As the applause died down at the next speaker took his position on the podium, he asked her, "You ready?"

"Yes, sir," she responded automatically, nodding.

"Good. Let's go."

When the President called their names and sang their praises, they stood side by side on the podium and graciously received their awards and apologies.

The Colonel still hadn't let go of her hand when the ceremony ended, and Sam found she liked him holding onto her. It felt nice to be kept close to him; a sudden and swift shift in their relationship from friends to more. She smiled at him, and stepped closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Let's say our goodbyes and get out of here," the Colonel said, smiling down at her.

A bubble of excitement surfaced through the anger and confusion still rampant inside her, and she smiled back. "Don't forget the dog."

"As if I would forget Homer," the Colonel pointed out, grinning at the thought of his puppy. Sam rolled her eyes at the name. "I just need to make sure Cassie is happy to let go of him!"

The happiness faded a little as Sam considered Cassandra, catching sight of the young woman sprawled under a tree with the dog in her arms carefully being watched by both Janet and Bek.

"You guys heading off now?" Janet asked as Sam and Jack approached them.

Sam nodded, smiling at Janet. "I think it's about time," Sam said.

"Don't be a stranger," Janet said instructed firmly.

"We won't," Sam promised, letting go of the Colonel to give Janet a hug. "Take care of yourself, and of Cassie," Sam whispered.

Janet smiled. "You take care of the Colonel."

Sam grinned, and knelt down to say goodbye to Cassie. Cassandra showed no indication that she understood what Sam was saying, or that she even recognised Sam. Sam smiled at her, pushed a strand of red hair behind her ear, and said goodbye.

With a final good bye, Sam took her place next to the Colonel again, resting her head against his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist.

"You ready to blow this joint?" he asked her, dropping his cheek onto her hair.

"I'm right behind you, Colonel," she told him, smiling.

"Good."

Janet, Cassandra and Bek disappeared in a golden flash of light as somewhere above them, Teal'c activated the ring transporter of his tel'tac and brought them onboard.

"Teal'c, good to see you buddy!" the Colonel grinned.

"It is good to see you too, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, nodding. "As it is to see you, Major Carter."

"Sam. Call me Sam, Teal'c."

A new home, a new life, a new start. Major Carter was still somewhere inside her, and receiving the medal from the President had made Sam realise that she would always be military, no matter what. But right now, Sam was going to live her own life.

"Sam," Teal'c said awkwardly, trying it out.

"Do I have to call you Sam?" the Colonel asked.

Sam grinned, not entirely sure where this unusual surge of happiness was coming from. "Only if I have to call you Jack," she decided.

"We'll work on that," the Colonel decided, pulling her closer. "Sam."

She smiled at him, and when he pressed a light kiss to her lips she thought maybe things would work themselves out somehow. After all, she'd never have thought to find herself in a Tel'tac again with the Colonel and Teal'c, heading out to another planet.

"Did you find me a lake with fish in it, Teal'c?" the Colonel asked, depositing Homer on the floor of the Tel'tac and dragging Sam to stand beside Teal'c at the helm.

"No," Teal'c admitted. "However, there are many planets for us to explore O'Neill."

They were missing Daniel, there was no SGC waiting for them back on Earth, and the Colonel had no cabin by a lake with fish in it. Maybe not happily ever after, but it was more than she'd ever dreamed of getting back.

Sam Carter smiled. "Well, what are waiting for, Teal'c? Let's go."

With a well-practiced nod, Teal'c acquiesced and their Tel'tac disappeared out of Earth's orbit.

---

FINI!


End file.
